The Legend of Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix
by Warlord1096
Summary: Reloaded under The Legend of Harry Potter: Phoenix Burning.
1. Prologue

**Summary: When Cedric Diggory lay dead at his feet, struck down by Peter Pettigrew's curse, Harry Potter knew the time was here. The time for the War to begin anew, and for Voldemort to try and recapture his evil dreams. The time had come for Harry to reveal all he ever was, all he'd ever stood for, and what he believed in.**

**The time had come to let loose the power, to pick a side, and fight the good fight that was coming. But Harry finds himself disenchanted by the Light Side, riddled by its old beliefs and prejudices, not really that different from their enemies. The government is riddled by corruption and inter-Departmental Politics, but in the end, it all comes down to power, and who holds it.**

**No more – this time, power returns to where it truly belongs, in the hands of the common people. The Wizengamot, though, stands in the way of this Democracy, built up so many years ago by the greatest wizard of all time, Merlin himself. Yet is it everything Merlin wanted it to be today, mired as it is in darkness and politics? Could the answer lie in the centre of all magic in Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, home to Merlin himself all those years ago?**

**Join Harry, along with a Succubus with a slap-happy tail and a dark past, and a new set of friends – with some old ones, as he takes the fifth year head on.**

**And in the end, only a few questions will remain unanswered – will the Wizarding World of Britain really change? Will secrets that have remained hidden for so long within the walls of Hogwarts come to light?**

**And most importantly, why is there an empty seat next to Harry in Potions, and why is he the only one who seems bothered by it?**

**The shadows lengthen, and time starts running out as Harry Potters enters his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**A/N: Pairings remain undecided, but is on poll, while Ginny Weasley remains a constant. Swearing included, may even turned rampant. No bashing as of such, but definite anger. Major departures from canon in some later chapters may occur.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no profits. That's all JK. All I have is the Potter Love.**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**_The Past -_**

**24th June, 1995**

**The Graveyard, Little Hangleton**

Harry struggled against the ropes that bound him to the headstone, earning him a mild stinging hex from Wormtail. All rational thought seemed to have been driven out of his head by the events of that night, and for all his training, he had been reduced to a helpless fourteen year-old in the matter of seconds.

The pathetic Animagus sneered horribly at him, even though he was perspiring horribly at the prospect of what he had to do.

Harry's mind had gone blank, all he could think about was the fact that he needed to get the hell out of there, and that Cedric was dead.

_Cedric was dead._

He refused to look at the corpse that lay a few feet away to his left, spread-eagled on the ground. His brain was still trying to deny what had already sunk in unconsciously.

_Cedric had been killed._

He grimaced as Wormtail took his wand with a leer, stuffing it carelessly into his pocket. He watched as the fat Death Eater moved over to another corner of the graveyard, where a bundle rested atop a huge snake, which was curled up upon itself.

He forcibly took control of his feelings, even as horror rose within him as he realised what he would soon be witness to. Pettigrew had already started the ritual, a high-cold voice guiding him through the steps.

The same voice that had haunted Harry's dreams for years. Voldemort was returning, and it seemed to be Harry's last night on Earth.

He swallowed. _No, _he told himself. _I'm not going down without a fight._

He kicked out and thrashed with his good leg as Wormtail made to cut his arm. Peter aimed a swift punch at his other leg, making him crumple in pain. With the swift descent of the knife in Peter's hand, his skin was pierced, and blood for the ritual drawn.

The physical shock seemed to drive him into an eerie calmness, and for the first time since he'd touched the Portkey, he began thinking rationally, clinically.

Ignoring the blood trickling down his forearm, he gave the slightest of smiles.

Wormtail had taken his wand forcibly from him, all 10-and-a-quarter inches of the hornbeam stick with the dragon hearstring core. The wand he'd nicked from Krum when he'd stunned the Bulgarian Champion.

He swore horribly under his breath as shadows began to coalesce over the cauldron, and the pain in his scar worsened. If only he had been quicker, this could have been avoided.

Older, wiser men would tell him it wasn't his fault – he had just witnessed the death of a friend, and for all his gory past, he was still a child in these matters.

Concentrating hard, he wiggled his wrist slightly, and his holly wand slowly slipped out. He cursed as it almost fell from his grasp, and he only managed to hold on to it by the base of the handle.

Making sure it was firmly lodged in his grasp, he took a deep breath, and whispered under his breath, '_Ferula_'.

He winced as there was a sharp crack and tight bandages bound his leg. Thankfully, it was underneath his pants, and not over them (he swore, he should have considered the risk beforehand), and Wormtail had not noticed; the Death Eater was staring entranced at the cauldron.

Keeping one horrified eye on the cauldron, Harry whispered again, '_Finite Incantatem_'.

The magically bound ropes slackened against his wrists, and he felt a twinge of relief as blood rushed to his wrists again. He had no time to dwell on the sensation, though, as he drew himself up, waiting in anticipation. He had to time this exactly right...

He almost lost grip of his wand when his scar split open in agony, all plans were driven out of his mind as he yelled in pain.

_Voldemort had risen again._

And within fifteen minutes, Harry was surrounded by Voldemort's inner circle, as the Dark Lord himself mocked the teenage wizard much to the delight of his followers.

Had they been more alert, they would have seen that even though he was staring stoically forward, staunchly ignoring Voldemort's words (something which strangely pleased the Dark Lord to no end); his eyes were slightly glazed over, as he meditated, drawing in every ounce of his power.

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Harry's pulse skyrocketed again, as he saw another opportunity to take the Dark Lord by surprise.

Voldemort's back was turned, as he walked to his end of the graveyard, drawing his wand.

Wormtail approached Harry, the silver glow from his new hand giving him an eerie look.

Without wasting a moment, without pondering about the honour of the situation, Harry muttered a quick '_Diffindo'_ and the ropes binding him fell away.

Wormtail paused, his mouth opening to form a gasp...

But Harry was already moving, his wand up and aimed at Voldemort's back –

_"CONFRINGO!"_

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**_The Present -_**

**31st****July, 1995**

**Grimmauld Place, London**

Ginny Weasley sighed as she took in the tension inside the room. Sirius was glowering in his chair, while Professor Lupin looked no different, sitting next to him with a mutinous expression on his face.

She had been in for a shock when she'd arrived at the safehouse and found out that it was owned by notorious mass murderer Sirius Black – only to find out later that he was completely innocent of all his crimes, and that Harry had stumbled upon this fact in his third year and helped him escape, fighting off a hundred dementors in the process.

_Of course he'd fight off a hundred dementors,_she thought. _He was Harry – unfailingly – brave – and – noble Potter, he'd killed a bloody basilisk for her when he was 12, hadn't he?_

And yet, for all his heroics and his fame, he was spending his fifteenth birthday alone in the Muggle world, locked up in a house with his horrible Muggle relatives. And that was precisely why the two adults were in such a bad mood, because Dumbledore had warned them not to even write to or send Harry presents for his birthday due to security concerns, saying he'd tolerate no breaking of the rule. In fact, Sirius' owl had returned back after being turned back by the wards, and even though George had the brillant idea to use the Black family house –elf Kreacher, Sirius had gloomily said that Dumbledore had extracted a Wizard's Oath from Sirius not to send Kreacher out of the house under any circumstances. So Harry was without the company of his family and friends on his birthday, in fact, none of his friends had written to him this summer.

She scoffed slightly – _friends, indeed._Harry's friendship with her brother Ron Weasley and the supposedly smartest witch of the generation, Hermione Granger, was the stuff of legends. Fighting trolls, saving stones that granted immortality, killing a 60 – foot long magical snake, and all their other exploits had earned them the title of the Golden Trio.

That is, while their friendship lasted.

Come Harry's third year, and Hermione's wish to study _every_ sodding subject offered at Hogwarts, the cracks in their friendship had started showing. The three of them never hung around as much, what with Hermione spending nearly every waking moment in the library on the verge of a mental breakdown. Even after she'd dropped some subjects at the end of the year, the strain on their friendship had lasted. Earlier, when someone spoke of them, it was in one breath – they were _HarryRonandHermione,_but it was slowly becoming Harry, and Ron, and Hermione. Things had, however, gotten a bit better during the World Cup, and Harry had been happy to be back in the constant company of his friends, but it was too good to last.

The Triwizard Tournament had happened, and with it, their friendship had completely blown over. Ron, in his stupid fit of jealousy, had severed all ties with Harry, and to everyone's shock, Hermione had blamed him for entering as well, stating that it was the only _logical_explanation. Harry had taken the break in their friendship hard, and had completely retreated into himself, spending hours alone in the library or in his common room, hated and hounded by the entire school.

And as the competition heated up, he was seen to disappear for larger and larger periods of time – but nobody had bothered, because it was quite normal considering the strain he was under. And Harry had always been somewhat of a recluse, seeking the company of only his two ex- best friends above all others.

Naturally, he had wanted to be alone, getting over the break in their friendship. Some people had felt bad for him, but others...there had been whispers, especially among the Slytherins, debating how Harry would cope without his two sidekicks. It was commonly thought that the only reason Harry had remotely decent grades was because Hermione forced him to study, or else he was quite content to lounge around with her brother.

She had to admit - she'd been a bit afraid too, because Ron had always said how they could never get anywhere unless it was for Hermione's extensive knowledge. He'd said, quite rudely, that Harry would finally confess his mistake after not performing well in the First Task – and so he hadn't deigned to tell Harry about the Dragons, and Hermione had agreed, smugly saying that Harry should_understand_ for once.

What Harry was supposed to understand, she'd never know, but she'd taken it upon herself to tell him about the beasts he would be facing, since Ron was being such an arse. When Sirius had come to know about Ron's treatment of Harry, he'd started giving Ron a cold shoulder and Professor Lupin had joined in too. Ron was uncomfortable, and so was Hermione when she'd arrived at Grimmauld Place because the Headmaster had deemed her unsafe, because of "prior ties with Harry Potter," as he'd put it. Hermione had been mildy put out, but she'd agreed readily, even though she had to cancel her holiday with her parents. Ginny suspected that her relationship with them wasn't quite so good, anyhow – her relationship with Ginny certainly wasn't, even though they were roommates, because Ginny'd told Harry about the dragons.

The thing was, she wasn't so sure that Harry had really needed that piece of information...

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

_Ginny took a deep breath, as Harry waited expectantly before her, his green eyes boring into her. Fighting the urge to let the slight pink tinge in her cheeks bloom into a full blown blush, she told him, "I need to tell you something, Harry, about the First Task."_

"_Ron still not talking to me, then?" he asked, his face unreadable, and his eyes shuttered._

_She forgot her discomfort for a moment, and scowled. "No he isn't, the great big prat! And neither is Hermione, for that matter!"_

"_Well, at least you believe me then," he said quietly, patting her hand gently, which tingled a bit._

_She looked up to see his green eyes with a tiny spark in them, which oddly reminded her of Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes._

"_Oh, Fred and George do as well," she said, trying not to blush at those eyes. She'd been working hard to get over her inane crush on Harry, and she was damned if he was going to wipe away all her progress with his brilliantly gorgeous green eyes!_

"_I know," he said lightly. "They told me. And you were about to tell me something too?" he asked._

"_Oh, yes," she said quickly. For all her planning, she hadn't really decided how to tell him. How did one tell someone that he was about to face one of the most dangerous creatures in the world?_

"_The First Task, Harry – it's Dragons."_

_She'd expected him to pale in shock, curse his luck, or maybe even let out a yelp of shock and bring over Madam Pince to their corner of the Library – but she hadn't expected him to nod his head._

"_Right, thanks, Ginny," he said. "I owe you one for that...thanks for telling me."_

_That was it? He was just told he'd be facing down a DRAGON, and he just thanked her mildy?_

_He spared her a look before walking off quietly, and she was a bit disarmed by the twinkle in his eyes._

"_Wish me luck, then?" he said, with a small grin._

_She just nodded dumbly, and blurted out a "good luck", which he acquiesced with another nod and a grin._

_He turned to go, but before he left, he spun around for a second, and said, "Thanks, Ginny...for everything...and for believing me." And just like that, he was gone._

_When Hermione had learnt of it later, she'd scolded Ginny, but even then, she'd been sceptical that he would find any use for the information._

"_That's right," said Ron, his mouth full of chicken. "He'll probably forfeit or something. He won't be able to do much without our 'Mione!"_

"_Don't call me 'Mione, Ronald!" said Hermione shrilly, and they were off again, arguing like crazy._

_Rolling her eyes, she'd tuned them out, instead turning to study Harry. He was bent downwards, looking down intently at his plate of food. Somehow, just somehow, she hoped that Harry would be able to show Hermione and Ron up – they deserved it for being such bad friends to him at such a time. She wished she'd be able to extend the hand of friendship to him, but Harry had never really noticed her (not through too much fault of his – he wasn't the one blushing and stuttering around him) – and nowadays, it seemed that he really preferred being alone._

_Not that she hadn't tried – over the year, she and Harry would nod at each other in the passageways, and he'd incline his head and grin at her a bit, but he was always alone, she'd noticed, while his other friends were off somewhere together. And if she'd gather up some courage and try to approach him, he'd just vanish, off at the library, or somewhere where no one could find him._

_But at that moment, at the dinner table, she wished that Harry would show up his two git ex – best friends who were currently arguing angrily opposite to her._

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

And did he show them up – the look on Ron and Hermione's face as Harry breezed through the First Task with the least injuries and the fastest time was priceless. Even the twins had been impressed by his performance, and as for her...she hadn't dream about much other than Harry for the next few weeks, and woken up with burning cheeks every time. Merlin, seeing his face as he outflew a _dragon_ on a paltry broomstick, once again silencing every critic of his – it was worth a few dreams.

And so the legend of Harry Potter had begun once again, despite Malfoy's best attempts to discredit his name. Earlier, it had been the legend of the Trio, but now it was once again Harry Potter, the Boy – Who – Lived...whispers among the students of Hogwarts, and breathless sighs amongst the female students.

She had to admit, seeing him through the tournament – it was almost like seeing the Boy Who Lived whom she'd read about in her childhood storybooks, powerful and heroic – especially when he'd rescued Professor Lupin from the bottom of the Black Lake in record time during the second task, and then jumped right back into the to rescue Gabrielle Delacour when Fleur came back up without her. The attitude of the entirety of Beauxbatons had changed towards him after that, and the look on Gabrielle's face during dinner had reminded her uncomfortably of herself in the earlier stages of her crush, and she's done her hardest to ignore the similarities.

Of course, Fred and George singing "His eyes are as green as fresh pickled toad" every time Gabrielle was around hadn't helped. Even so, she was interested to note that Lupin was the one Harry'd miss the most after his friends, but it made sense now, he was somewhat Harry's honorary Godfather, and they'd maintained contact after his third year.

But meanwhile, Harry's legend among the females had been established – and many a girl had begun eyeing him differently over the space of the year – and during the Yule Ball, he'd been fairly swamped by requests for a date. Of course, she'd been crushed when McGonagall had said that it was strictly for fourth years and above, and Harry'd ended up going with Parvati Patil, who said that Harry had been unfailingly polite and courteous to her throughout, and had even danced quite well with her.

As she idly picked at the remnants of her meal, she wondered what it'd be like if she'd gone to the Yule Ball with Harry instead of Parvati.

_Come off it!_ Her mind screamed. She'd finally buried as much as she could of her feelings for Harry, and she was even writing back and forth with Michael Corner of Ravenclaw, and she felt certain that he'd be asking her out sometime this year.

As she got up from the dinner table, she thought that she was still unsure about that prospect. Somehow, it felt like cheating on Harry that way. She quickly pushed away that thought...she'd always feel for Harry, she decided, but he'd never notice her...

How could she not feel for him? Waking up on that cold floor of the Chamber to the sight of his emerald eyes, and then finding out that he'd risked life and limb, battled a Basilisk to save her life even though he barely knew her – and even forgiven her and assured her it was not her fault at all – she'd known then that she'd always love him, not for being the Boy – Who – Lived who she'd read and fantasized about, but Harry, just Harry, as he always insisted he was. She'd analyzed her feelings over and over again the summer after the Chamber, and come to the conclusion that she really was in love with him, whatever be her age or her maturity, because she was quite sure that no person she'd ever know could ever match up to him.

But it still hurt that she'd never stand a chance with him that way, however deep her feelings went...she still cursed herself for taking Hermione's advice and leaving Harry alone after her first year, to give him space and to "allow him to see her as _herself_ instead of just her immature crush."

She cursed Hermione as well – she'd gone against her advice last year, and Harry was already friends with her.

Well, not really friends _per se_, but at least acquaintances – after last year, she didn't think Harry had any friends at all – and she cursed her brother and Hermione for betraying him like they had – and she felt terrible for Harry, who must be feeling lonely alone at his Uncle's house.

Of course, she'd gathered her courage and tried to write to Harry, but her efforts had been in vain – _Dumbledore's orders_- apparently, Harry was not to be written to or disturbed.

"Of course," she spat out to no one in particular, "after being alone and friendless all year, and then watching his schoolmate die before his eyes, leaving him alone is the best idea!"

A door opened next to her, and she turned around to find Sirius and Remus (as he insisted the children call him) looking down at her, slight smiles on their faces.

"Thinking about my godson then, Miss Weasley?" asked Sirius, his gray eyes shining with mischief, making him look almost ten years younger.

"Indeed," came a voice from behind, and she found Fred and George at the top of the staircase – it seemed that they had been coming up behind her, and had heard her outburst too – it seemed everybody in the bloody building had!

"She does have an unhealthy obsession with the Boy – Who – Lived," said Fred.

"Slayer of Basilisks and rescuers of red haired princesses," continued George –

"Conquerer of a hundred Dementors –"

"Youngest Triwizard Champion – "

"Youngest _Seeker_ in a century – "

"Is there anything he hasn't done, the man?"

"Oh I don't know," said Ginny in a low, controlled voice, now fingering her wand and eyeing the twins dangerously, who promptly shut up. "He wouldn't have given a thousand galleons to a couple of dunderheads to spend on their joke shop, would he?" the twins blanched, and she was sure that her suspicions were correct, but she continued anyway, "two dunderheads who are _dangerously_ close to losing their bollocks," she said idly.

Behind her, the two adults burst out laughing. "Oh Merlin!" said Sirius, chuckling heavily. "She's exactly like her! He doesn't stand a chance, Moony, I'm changing my bets to her!"

"Oh no," said Remus mildly, his eyes twinkling as well. "That Asian girl never stood a chance, anyway, you were only rooting for her because of her assets...I'd said all along that it'd be someone like her – it's been that way for a long time, it was the only choice – "

"Excuse me," interjected the twins –

"But might we know –"

"What in the blazes you're talking about?"

"Aah, you see," said Lupin, straightening up, and eyeing Ginny. "You see, Miss Weasley here reminds us another redhead we used to know –"

"Who went by the name of Lily Potter," said Sirius, "and was one of the best persons I have ever known – and she was a lot like you – redheaded, with a nice temper, feisty, and brilliant with a wand –"

"I remind you of Harry's mother?" asked Ginny incredulously. "_The_ Lily Potter?"

Lily was somewhat of a legend amongst the Order Members – every person who reminisced about the old days would speak about what a brilliant person she was – compassionate, with a kind word for everyone, and near – prodigious skill with a wand. Sirius had recounted the story of how Harry had driven off a hundred Dementors to save him, and had likened Harry's behaviour to that of Lily's and he'd glowed with pride when the other members had agreed – and then McGonagall had told the story of Harry and the Chamber of Secrets as Harry had recounted in her office – and it had garnered similar statements.

Even Mad – Eye Moody had said that only Lily's son would risk life and limb to rescue someone who he barely knew, simply because it had to be done. Killing a basilisk was apparently not an easy task, and Harry was only the second wizard in history to succeed in this task, something that had also built him an enormous reputation amongst the Order, many of whose members were eager to meet him, especially after some of them had seen him during the Triwizard Tournament.

Of course, she'd understood how Harry was like that – he was unfailingly kind and polite to everyone, and he did have a rather heroic streak in him, but _her?_

"I'm not as powerful as her, or as skilled," she said humbly, waving off the praise.

"Oh, she's as modest too," said Sirius, shaking his head.

"Thank goodness Harry inherited that trait too, because James' arrogance got on even my nerves sometimes," said Lupin.

"I don't know about skill," snorted Fred –

"But she definitely has the power," said George, an ominous look on his face.

"Have you _seen_ her Bat – Bogey Hex?" asked Fred, giving a fake shudder.

"Oh I don't know about that," said Professor Lupin, "but I remember her disarming hex – blew an arm off my practice dummy, if I remember correctly. Only person who ever demonstrated that power and skill at her age was Harry..."

"Harrikins?" asked George.

"I beg to differ," said Fred mildly –

"But Harry's grades are nothing to really write home about – "

"And the teachers don't exactly gush with praise about his spellwork –"

"I swear Flitwick nearly pissed himself praising Ginny's abilities at Charms –"

"Well excuse me while I disagree," said Sirius hotly, who seemed miffed that the twins were downplaying his Godson's abilities –

"Sirius," said Remus mildly. "You have to remember when to keep silent –" he chided, "or are you so eager to lose your bet?"

"But come on, Moony, we can tell them! Harry told us he trusted the three of them!" whined Sirius. "Not like their idiot brother!" he said darkly, but then added a hasty "No offence."

"None taken," said Ginny, while the twins nodded. "We know our brother's a git – but what are you talking about?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a quick look, and then Remus said, "We can't really tell you, but you'll see for yourself in some time, I think –"

"Oh yes," said Sirius eagerly, "I'm telling you, it'll be this year itself –"

"Not a chance, Sirius," said Remus, "It has to be after the OWLs –"

"Excuse me –"

"But would you please tell us –"

"What in the hell you're talking about?" chanted the twins.

"Just a little bet we have, you see," said Sirius coolly.

"What bet?" asked George.

"About the big reveal," said Remus, just as coolly.

"Big Reveal?" asked Ginny, mystified. "What big reveal?"

"You'll see when the time comes," replied Remus. "In fact, I think you'll quite enjoy it," he finished with a grin.

"But what does this revelation have to do with Harry?"

"Everything," was the cyptic answer, but before he could elaborate, there was a crack! And suddenly, standing on the landing was a house – elf, with large tennis ball shaped eyes and floppy ears. Ginny bit back a startled scream -

Wordlessly, the elf handed Sirius a piece of paper, and then he disapparated away immediately with another loud crack.

"What in the blazes was that?" asked George.

Silently, Sirius handed over the paper to her, a feral grin on his features.

The twins bent over her shoulder to read what was unmistakeably written in Harry's scrawl, "_Not do magic? Stay in the house?! He gets it tonight, Sirius!"_

It seemed that Harry had been in a towering temper when he'd been scribbling the note, because the writing was shaky and unstable.

"What does this mean?" asked Ginny, a bit apprehensively. "Who gets it tonight?"

"It means," said Sirius, grinning, "that you should get your popcorn ready and wait in the Hall. And as to who...why, that's the best part!"

At the same time, there was a shout from downstairs, "Emergency Order Meeting! Code Red! Harry's been attacked by Dementors!"

Ginny and the twins gasped, and Sirius and Remus' face darkened.

"Oh I _will_ enjoy this," said Remus dangerously as he made his way downstairs with Sirius. "Albus told us that Harry had to stay at Privet Drive alone on his birthday for security purposes – and instead he ends up facing Dementors!"

"Ten Galleons that he sets something on fire?" asked Sirius eagerly.

"Scratch that," countered Remus, "_I'll_pay him ten galleons if he can get rid of your Mum's portrait!"

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle is going on?" howled Fred, "Harry gets attacked by Dementors, the two of you are gambling, and there's going to be an explosion, and _nobody's_ telling us anything! I wanna watch stuff explode!"

They'd arrived at the ground floor, and just before the two adults made their way into the kitchen, where several other wizards were gathering, Sirius turned and said, "Then you definitely shouldn't miss this. Like I said, be ready with some food, because this will be the best drama you'll see in months –"

And with that cryptic statement, the two of them were gone, and Mrs. Weasley was the last person to enter the kitchen, locking it behind her and telling the children to go up and stay in their rooms.

And Ginny turned to face the twins, and was a bit surprised to find them holding armfuls of candy. "Wait, where did you get all that?"

"Trade secret, Gin–gin," began Fred, but shut up at the expression on her face. "Er, I don't know about you, but I'm sticking around to watch what the two of them were on about...my Prankster senses are going off the charts!"

George nodded fervently, showing that he was in agreement with his twins.

"Well, then," said Ginny, not being able to make too much sense of the entire matter, but hoping that it'd resolve itself in some time, "break out some Butterbeer while we wait."

They didn't have to wait very long before the meeting was interrupted, though.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**_And the Future..._**

**18th June, 1996**

**The Death Chamber, Department of Mysteries**

**Ministry of Magic, London**

Harry's world seemed to tilt on its axis and fall upside down, as he struggled to take in the situation, his heart racing.

The Veil seemed to be fluttering innocently in the centre of the Chamber, as if it just hadn't shattered his entire life.

And then his anger took over; blind, raw emotion coursed through him as he set his eyes upon the witch who was still cackling in victory.

All warnings forgotten, he delved into himself.

They were waiting, as always, moving in tandem, keeping the balance.

Only he wasn't interested in _bloody_ balance anymore.

Taking a short breath, he whispered the two forbidden words.

_**Magicus Extremos**._

It was like somebody had kick-started the spinning, and the two forces seemed to blur into one as they picked up speed at an alarming rate.

Power, _raw_ power seized Harry's mind as all rational thought was wiped from his mind, and all that was left was anger.

A haze seemed to settle over the world around him, and the dark haired wizard snarled –

_RipTearBreakBlastKILL!_

Harry went_ nuclear._

**END PROLOGUE**

**A/N: Edited as of 15/10/2012. And much cooler, I think!**


	2. Blood Wards

_If it keeps on raining, the levee's going to break..._

_...When the levee breaks, Mama you got to move...~_

**A/N: Tried my best to deal with all possible cliches. Harry's behaviour is now justified, he shows no Slytherin tendencies at a ridiculously young age, he has no glamours or miraculous magical bonds upon his person! A much improved chapter, I hope.**

**CHAPTER 2: Blood Wards **

1st November, 1994

Harry Potter was now officially friendless, and hated by nearly everyone in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had broken their friendship with him because he had _supposedly_ entered his own name into the Goblet of Fire.

It hurt a lot at first, that the two people he held closer to his heart above all others would fail to see that it wasn't his own doing. They'd taken down Mountain Trolls and possessed teachers together, rescued damstrels in distress and unfairly convicted prisoners - all for naught. It had taken only a bit of jealousy for their legendary friendship to end.

Of course he hadn't entered himself, but his friends weren't willing to believe that.

Yet, even through his sorrow, he could feel the tiny spark of relief within him. Finally, he was free to do as he liked, free to learn and have fun – free to be the real Harry Potter.

Not that he wasn't the real Harry Potter, but most of the time the world never got to see what he really was like. The world's perception of Harry was that he was an average student, struggling through get through some of his classes, an average user of magic, with none of the flair and charisma possessed by his parents.

Oh how wrong they were.

Harry had always been smart; he could remember a time when he was at the top of his primary school class. But then the Dursleys had found out, and he'd received a thrashing for upstaging Dudley at school. Instead of taking the highly romanticized and cliched path of studying in secret, though, he'd simply fallen into the habit of slacking off, only to find that it made life much easier as well. He would convince himself that he'd finally break free of his slump and be the student he knew he had to be...tomorrow...and then the day after...or maybe the day after that...or maybe, until Dudley was off to Smeltings?

Of course, when his Hogwarts letter had arrived, he'd been filled with new determination, and had decided to prove himself to the best of his abilities - live up to the moniker of the Boy-Who-Lived.

But old habits die hard, and within a month of his arrival at Hogwarts, the teachers had to grudgingly agree with Severus Snape's summary of Harry's abilites - he was extremely mediocre. Despite being a polite, well-mannered, and frankly endearing child, he showed no sign of his parents' power.

Of course, in his rather shoddy defense, Harry had some excuses.

Abused, neglected and emotionally supressed children generally don't grow up to enjoy being the centre of attention. Despite being famous before he could walk and talk efficiently, Harry was in no part the attention seeker that his father was - he was already rather terrified by the hero-worship showered on him due to something he couldn't even _remember_ doing, and added attention due to his talents would probably drive him over the edge.

Quidditch - Quidditch, though, was another thing altogether.

And he would solemnly ignore the tiny voice in his head sometimes that would point out that he sometimes quite enjoyed the attention that his Quidditch abilities got him, and his education wouldn't really be all that different.

But secondly, and more importantly, there was the matter of his friends. If he suddenly bucked up and started outperforming them in every class, he didn't think his friendship with either Ron or Hermione would last. And after having true friends (how mistaken he was) for the first time of his life, nothing short of a miracle would drive him away from them.

So he'd skated through the first and second years of Hogwarts life – not really paying attention, not really putting in any effort, not really bothering to understand the beautiful chaos that was magic...

But then the Chamber of Secrets had happened – and that had marked the turning point in his life. He still remembered it with trepidation - Ginny Weasley lying on the Chamber floor, cold and unresponsive, the Shade of Tom Riddle revealing that he was Lord Voldemort...and the Basilisk.

The Basilisk had turned out to be the greatest blessing in disguise for Harry – because no one, not even Dumbledore knew that Harry had _looked the Basilisk in the eye._

– And survived certain death once again, but how, he had no idea. The only thing he remembered before Fawkes had arrived was a pair of hypnotizing, big yellow eyes, and then immense pain in his scar, and the unloosening of some kind of magical bonds on his person. Later, he'd come to the conclusion that somehow, the bit of Voldemort (as Dumbledore put it) in his scar, had been destroyed by that incident. By all rights, that should have meant that he should have lost the ability to speak to snakes, but Harry had the instinct that one could not just look the King of Serpents in the eye, kill it, _and_ have some of its venom running through one's veins without any side – effects.

His theory had only been reinforced by the fact that he could thereafter speak Parseltongue anytime he wanted nowadays – instead of having to stand face to face with a live serpent.

He'd barely managed to stay conscious after looking into the serpent's eyes, but after the pain had passed...the Basilisk was lucky to escape with only a sword through its mouth, because the sheer power he'd unleashed had destroyed the rear half of the Chamber, reducing the statue of Salazar Slytherin to dust.

And later, Harry had felt more powerful than he ever had in his life – and moreover, he'd discovered just how smart he _really_ was. The parasite in his scar had been slowly feeding off him, mentally, emotionally and physically, until he was stunted in both mind and body. Living with the Dursleys had not helped matters, either.

It was then that he'd realised just how _stupid_ he'd been – the summer after his second year had been the summer of change for Harry. He'd learnt, and learnt, and _learnt_– it seemed his brain and his magic had not liked being cooped up for so long, and both seemed eager to over exercise themselves to make up for all the years they'd lain unused.

Little things seemed fascinating now - how two simple words could levitate things into the air, how a simple incantation could bring light, fire, water. He'd learnt to appreciate the magic around him, and he'd developed an incredible thirst for knowledge, that only seemed to grow as he read more and more.

He'd gone over every bit of his lessons for the first two years, with additional reference, painstakingly taking notes that would've made Hermione sniff in pride. He'd delighted in every little thing he'd discovered - even the little footnote that said that some charms could even be explained by muggle concepts of science, or how some spells could be modified to serve personal purposes.

He'd even made headway into the third year lessons in his eagerness, where he'd discovered that Arithmancy and Runes were so much more interesting than Divination – but the die had been cast, and he had to follow through with his choices.

Of course, there was also the fact that he'd borrowed books on both these subjects from the library for some _intense_ 'light reading' throughout the year.

He'd felt guilty, that he was hiding who he really was from his friends, though. There he was, learning new and wonderful things every day, and sharing none of it with his two favourite people!

Well, he _had _tried to show them, by performing the flame freezing charm the fastest in the Charms class one day, but Hermione had nearly hyperventilated, and then drilled him on how he'd managed to beat _her_, while Ron had simply looked at him very, very strangely. He was till date undecided on which reaction had freaked him out more.

So he'd left it alone, studying while he could, especially when Ron and Hermione were fighting amongst themselves and driving him up the wall – and he had a legitimate excuse to stay away from them. And despite the niggling voice in his head, he'd kept his secret - there was always the fear that his friends would shun him once they found out.

He had realised, though, that he would have to reveal himself sometime – and Lupin had actually been the first to find out.

How many thirteen year olds could cast the Patronus charm after only a couple of month of instruction?

Surprisingly, Lupin had understood. Of course, he would, Harry had later justified. Remus was a werewolf, and he understood being afraid that Harry's friends would desert him if they found out Harry was the slightest bit different.

One might argue that merely being powerful would hardly qualify as a betrayal of trust among friends, but Remus have lived in the world long enough to know that those with power were also those who were the loneliest in life.

So he'd gone along with it, and even opened up to Harry about his past. He'd delighted in teaching Harry further in the Defense area, and even throwing in the occasional Prank Spell.

The young man Remus could see was powerful, intelligent and cunning - the perfect Slytherin, ironically.

And then Sirius had come into his life, and he'd witnessed Harry's power first hand. Sirius was quick enough to see that it was Harry's angry _Expelliarmus_ above the others that had truly sent Snape flying through the wall of the Shrieking Shack, and of course, there was the famous Patronus Incident.

And Sirius had understood Harry as well - the desire to keep his secrets to himself, the fear of being deserted by his friends. Spending his childhood in a Dark Family, always afraid that his friends would leave if they ever found out, hiding the abuse he underwent from his friends...yes, Sirius could understand as well.

But Harry's secret was out now, and his training by the Legendary Marauders had also begun.

The summer before his fourth year had been one big vacation, what with Sirius turning up on the Dursley's doorstep and threatening them, and then proceeding to hang out with Harry and Remus almost every day (under Glamours, of course) and getting to know his godson while reacquainting himself with his best friend.

It was then that Harry had found it that he inherited his skills in different subjects from his parents – that James was a prodigy when it came to Transfiguration, and Lily was a prodigy at almost everything the school taught _except_ fact, the story of how his parents got together – who had been on the worst possible terms all throughout their Hogwarts years – involved his father tutoring Lily for her Transfiguration NEWTs.

He still couldn't believe the parts of the story that involved a drunken garden gnome and his father in a pair of hot pink thongs, though.

Of course, his parents were not perfect, far from it, Sirius had assured him, but they had grown up and matured into good people – people who everyone respected.

And in the end, he'd been almost hesitant to leave behind his Godfather and his honorary Godfather and go to the World Cup and carry on this little charade that was becoming more and more tiresome every day.

He'd decided to come clean with his friends that year - but one thing had led to another, and he'd held off talking to them. Which was a kind of good thing as well, since his faith in his friends had obviously been misplaced.

And now, sitting at the edge of the Black Lake, skipping rocks on the water surface, he was thinking hard. The Tournament could come in handy - it could be a screen behind which he could pretend to train himself to become more powerful, and emerge the Wizard he truly was.

"Dobby!" he said, and the house elf who he'd freed after his second year appeared promptly before him. Despite Dobby's desire for freedom, the elf's magic would eventually die out, taking him with it if he was not bonded to a wizard – and Harry had great difficulty in restraining himself from rubbing this fact in Hermione's face when she'd started on _spew_ that year.

However, since he was underage and could not bond with an elf, he had come up with the next best solution – bond Sirius with the hyperactive elf. Dobby had slowly been regaining his old magical strength, and at the same time, both Sirius and Harry had been getting some proper nourishment, even while the former was on the run. Master or no master, though, Dobby served Harry as well (the elf had been delighted when Sirius had given him express permission to do so) as the elf adored "the Great Harry Potter!"

"Listen, Dobby, I want you to move everything in my trunk except a few pair of clothes to the Room of Requirement, and then customise it into a habitable room where I can spend some time with Old Master as well. He will be living there this year, hopefully." Sirius would have a coronary at being addressed as 'Old Master', so Harry took a perverse pleasure in calling him by that name.

The plan was simple, but brilliant once one thought about it. Why should his Godfather live in a cave in Hogsmeade when he could easily live inside a magical room in one of the most heavily warded buildings in the world?

Plus, it meant much more time to bond with his godfather, so many more pranks to play, and so much more to learn – Sirius had been training to be a Curse Breaker before his imprisonment, and his skill in Ancient Runes was unmatched.

He stood up, and began to make his way over to the Owlery, already drafting the letter for Sirius in his mind.

Simultaneously, he reminded himself to ask Dobby to step up on the nutritional regime Sirius and Remus had set up for him - apparently, Old Families like the Blacks would never show any weakness, even in looks, going as far as to develop potions to ensure their children grew up healthy and looking every part the rich pureblood heir.

They assured him that he'd show steady growth and improvement, with a major growth spurt at the end of his regime of one year - Sirius had even joked that this potion was probably the cause why so many Blacks ended up insane. Harry had not been amused, and he had not been reassured either when Sirius told him he'd gone through the same regime when he was a child. Remus had found this highly amusing.

But all matters aside, Harry Potter may have been hated by nearly everyone in the school, he may have been friendless, but right then, he had a lot to look forward to, even though it meant a lot of hiding and appearing to be antisocial.

For then, Harry Potter was content.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

31st July, 1995

Harry Potter was _pissed._

To say that he was a step away from exploding would not be inaccurate, for he was, indeed, keeping a very tight leash on his magic at that moment.

The person he was so pissed at?

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!_

Harry's summer holidays had not been going well. Firstly, he had been unable to keep in contact with his Godfather and his honorary Godfather. Sirius had told him plainly that Dumbledore would be separating the two of them that summer. The fact that Sirius had promised him a brilliant late birthday gift before he went back to Hogwarts, and that Remus had already given him a complete set of books on Healing (Harry'd joked and said that for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he of all people would need lessons on Healing) had placated him somewhat.

He had tried to mail them, but it seemed that Dumbledore had given a no–letter order too, while simultaneously forbidding Sirius from using Kreacher. Harry also had the bright idea of using Dobby, but the journey to Grimmauld Place with a single letter had cost the elf badly, and he'd come back shaking and pale. Because Dobby was staying at Hogwarts even though he served Sirius, he was not encompassed by the spells placed on the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which Remus and Sirius had told Harry many stories about. However, as a house elf, he would forever be able to turn up by his master's side when ordered, and even though he had been able to take Harry's letter to Sirius through the extensive wards around the HQ, the price had been too for Harry to use him it again.

Moreover, his magic seemed to be growing along with him, and he had a hard time keeping it in check, because he knew that Dumbledore was monitoring the slightest details at Privet Drive, and any magic, even unintentional or accidental or pure power seepage would bring the cavalry running, with a reprimand from his Headmaster. Besides, a leaking magical aura meant a sign of power, and Harry was not ready for his power to be put on display for the world at all.

The Tournament had elevated public perceptions of him - he was now undoubtedly amongst the high average magic users, with growing powers. Nothing noteworthy, though. Just slightly more powerful than the run of the mill which or the wizard.

Until now, that is. Tonight, he'd finally be wiping off some of that extra energy off him, no doubt.

What angered him even more was that Hedwig's trips to magical areas in general was very limited. He'd been unable to owl order the shops at Diagon Alley, since Death Eaters would probably catch Hedwig and then curse the materials she was bringing back to Harry, according to the letter Dumbledore had sent him at the beginning of the year.

The very idea itself was laughable, Harry had complete faith in his loyal bird – she was extremely intelligent, and she would never be captured by any wizard of any sort at all. But she was being monitored, and it would look really suspicious if Harry Potter, a person who seemingly detested most education like his fellow peers, started ordering books by the dozen...

People would definitely know, since members of the Order were tailing him at Privet Drive all the time, severely limiting his normal activities, while trying to remain inconspicuous – and failing miserably.

He was fifteen, and nobody had any right to have him cooped up like this! He felt angry and resentful, every bit the rebellious teenager – Dumbledore was going to pay, keeping him away from his true family, making him bend to the Dursleys because he was unable to practice magic over the holidays – something he hadn't dared to do because one more offence would see him expelled from Hogwarts.

Oh, no, he already had been expelled from Hogwarts, and then told he was facing a disciplinary hearing on the Twelfth of August. Something which proceeded to anger him further – he _knew_ that something so trivial as underage magic did not warrant a hearing – Dumbledore, however, seemed to have put up no protest on his behalf!

He was going to have fun seeing the look on Dumbledore's face when he told him that he was no longer going to live with the Dursleys. He'd been told he would be safe here, but getting attacked by bloody Dementors definitely wasn't safe – and Dumbledore was going to pay for his lies.

A few months ago, Harry would've taken this in his stride and moved on, barely concealing his temper – there were bigger things to blow up about. But right now, he was fifteen, and angry, and he was going to show the world exactly who the Boy – Who – Lived was.

He lugged his trunk downstairs, so that Dobby could appear and take him away from this hellhole – anywhere was better than this place right now, warnings to not break any more rules be damned.

His aunt and uncle were sitting in the hall, looking uncharacteristically ashen faced. He didn't blame them, though – the apple of their eye _- Dinky Duddydums_- had just narrowly escaped having his soul sucked out. He swore as he hit his head at the landing - the growth regime had worked especially well over the summer, during the final stages, and he's shot up in Ron-nish amounts.

His Aunt and Uncle looked up when he entered, carrying his cage and his trunk and subtly massaging his hair.

"What are you doing?" his aunt asked shrilly, regaining some of her unpleasant character.

"Leaving," said Harry flatly.

"What?" she screamed. "You can't leave – the letters – there are blood wards – you have to stay –"

Harry froze, all plans of a miraculous escape flying from his brain as he processed what she'd mentioned in her passing words. The blood was thundering through his head, a weird roaring sound was rising in his ears. He ignored the comments about the letter Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore had sent him, telling him to stay put and out of trouble, instead focusing on what his Aunt had just said.

"_What_ did you just say?"

His Aunt stopped mid – tirade, and then shrunk a bit along with his Uncle as she took in the sight before him – the air around her nephew was literally hazy with power, and his green eyes were glowing like fire. He'd grown a lot over the Summer as well - no doubt a _freakish _thing, and he looked frankly intimidating.

"_What did you say?"_ he repeated. The air around him seemed to be getting warmer, and the kitchen was getting uncomfortably hot.

His Aunt could only manage a squeak, as she took in a side of Harry she'd never seen before, while his Uncle opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again, his piggy eyes fixed on Harry in fear.

"_There are _**_blood wards _**_around this house?"_ he asked, his voice a low, murderous whisper. Petunia had heard that voice only once before, and that was when her freak sister had blown up half her room in a fit. She gulped, and nodded fearfully, wondering where this was going, and if she would escape with her life. A solitary bead of sweat rolled down Vernon's forehead.

The very air around Harry seemed to contract as he pulled himself up, seeming taller than he had only moments ago. For the first time in his life, Vernon appreciated the power that wizards wielded, but before he could comment, there was a huge flash, and when the light had gone, so had Harry, complete with his trunk and bird.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

He was standing in the middle of a park in the middle of some run down area in London – and he realised somewhere deep down that he'd just lost control of his emotions and performed accidental magic, no doubt transporting himself to the place where Dumbledore was right then.

He realised that this was probably where HQ was, but he was unable to remember the address Sirius had told him, thanks to the Fidelius. He realised belatedly that he had no way of going in now, but his brain was too steamed to be working properly.

He should have been wondering how sheer intent had brought him to where he thought the Headmaster could be, but he wasn't really keen on thinking at the moment - he had just found something to be very, _very_ angry over.

_Blood wards, indeed._

Memories of his years at Number Four, Privet Drive flashed through his brain as he snarled and drew his wand, his magic spitting and sparking.

He pulled out his wand – he'd blast the whole block apart if he had to find the house, but he was saved the trouble when Dobby appeared next to him. The elf looked positively terrible, his skin hanging of him in loose folds, his ears drooping, his large eyes dull.

"Harry Potter is leaving Privet Drive! Harry Potter is being in trouble, sir!"

Another time, Harry'd be touched that the elf, even in his state, was making Harry his priority, but now, he only seized Dobby by the ridiculous tea cosy he was wearing, and growled, "Give me the secret, Dobby." When the elf flinched, he shouted, "NOW!"

Dobby's eyes widened as he stuttered out, "Master Black i – is living at Number 12, Gri - Grimmauld Place, London."

He watched, his head pounding, his magic pulsing, as the house appeared before him. A rational part of him realised that he could have asked the secret from Dobby anytime over the holidays, but he realized it wouldn't really have helped his cause, even if he knew.

He made his way purposefully over to the door, Dobby following him hurriedly, levitating his trunk and Hedwig in her cage, and they wobbled dangerously due to Dobby's weakened state. Hedwig let out an indignant hoot, but Harry paid no intention as he crossed the street, and let out a small pulse of magic – Hedwig's cage burst open, and she flew out, soaring into the night sky.

Dobby snapped his fingers, and the door opened and Harry marched straight in, pulling out his wand from his pocket. There was the smallest trace of wild, raw phoenix song, which only served to feed his rage, as he revelled in the fiery warmth that shot up his arm and left his entire body tingling. His magic swelled, now coming out of every pore in his body, sparking the air around him as he made his way down the passage that opened into a giant, dusty living room.

Ginny, the twins, as well as Ron and Hermione were sitting in the living room when Harry suddenly walked into the living room, scaring the hell out of the children.

"Harry!" shrieked Hermione, but he paid her no attention.

Ginny blanched as she took in the boy in front of her. Gone was the quiet, polite Golden boy Harry, the person in front of her looked wild, angry, and heartbreakingly handsome. Harry had grown up a lot over the summer, he was definitely taller - she'd noticed his steady growth all through last year. His normally messy hair was shaggier and seemed to be flowing in some invisible breeze, and the air around him was cloying palpably with power – she'd never seen somebody look so bloody _powerful_ – his eyes were like twin stars – glowing like the unforgiving Avada Kedavra Crouch had displayed in his class last year.

"Dumbledore?" was the only word he spoke, his voice tight. The three Weasleys understood what Sirius had meant by an explosion – Harry seemed tighter wound than a coiled spring – _this would be quite an_ _evening,_ thought the twins, as they simply pointed towards the kitchen where the meeting was going on – hidden away from them behind locked doors.

Harry simply nodded his head as he kept marching forwards – Ron shook his head, Harry always shuffled about, staying in the shadows, he didn't _strut_– but he watched as his ex-best friend raised his wand.

Harry felt his magic rear up, almost with a sentient delight, as he raised his holly wand – he knew that the door had wards, but he paid no attention – if his magic could take out a fucking basilisk, it could take out a bleeding door when he lost his temper.

The others watched, dumbstruck, as Harry pulled back a bit, raising his wand behind his head, never breaking his stride. He hurled his hand forward with an almighty roar, his body bending forward to follow the motion of his wand.

Ginny was left speechless a wave of pure power emerged from Harry's wand and stuck the door, blasting it apart to pieces – shrapnel and dust flying everywhere. The spell itself seemed to distort the very air it had passed through.

Harry never stopped walking forward as the door blasted apart, much to his satisfaction – revealing a room full of adults, all of them too shocked to react, except Snape who had raised his wand and pointed it at Harry's chest. Snape, who'd bullied and insulted Harry since the moment they'd met – Harry merely slashed his wand at the Potions Master, and he was sent flying through the air, where he collided with the wall and broke _through_ it, making a Snape – shaped hole in the plaster.

"Holy Merlin..." whispered Fred behind her, and Ginny silently agreed, too shocked to speak. _My goodness..._ A detached part of her brain noticed a grinning Sirius and Lupin, who had mysteriously acquired a bowl of popcorn, and she and the twins made her way over to them when they beckoned.

"Watch, and learn just how powerful my Godson really is," said Sirius, grinning ferally.

"Oh, I think we saw," said Ginny faintly, and Fred and George nodded fervently behind her.

There was uproar in the room as Harry stepped inside after banishing Snape into the wall, but all conversation stopped in shock when he stalked forward straight to the head of the room and seized the front of Dumbledore's robes (the Headmaster, for all his vaunted power, had been too shocked at the sight of an angry, attacking Harry to react), and slammed him against the wall, his fist bunching up the front of the ancient wizard's robes.

Even Snape, who drunkenly staggered out of the wall, his wand raised and a curse on his lips, stopped short as he took in the sight before him. The power was now literally coming off Harry in a tidal wave, making the room unbearably hot. Half the order members were staring at Harry in a mixture of awe and fear, while those who knew him were too shocked to speak. He would have cherished the look on Minerva's face forever, except for the fact that he was currently white and covered in plaster and dust.

"Explain yourself," hissed Harry, his eyes boring into Dumbledore's blue ones. All the utensils and cutlery and dishes began to rattle and shake, while the glass panes on the shelves and cupboards vibrated ominously.

"Harry?" asked Molly Weasley, her voice low and fearful.

Sirius merely rolled his eyes and munched on a bit of popcorn, and offered it to the people on either side, but stopped at the look on Tonks' face. It clearly said, _Explain or I'll kill you_. He gave her a wink before passing the bowl to Moony, watching the drama unfold before him.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, speaking for the first time, his voice amazingly calm and composed for someone who was pinned up against a wall. "Let go of me. You are not feeling like yourself, Harry, this is not you."

"_No shit, Sherlock!_" said Harry venomously. "I'm definitely myself, and I'm definitely pissed, you manipulative old bastard!"

Several people gasped in indignation, and Professor McGonagall let out a scandalised "_Mister Potter!_"

Harry rounded on her, and the Transfiguration teacher shrunk back in her seat as he levelled his burning green gaze on her – this person, whoever he was, was not Harry Potter, the person she knew; this was an entirely different boy altogether.

His words, however caught him unawares. "You were there, that night weren't you?"

"W- What?"

"Why, Professor, the day my parents were killed by Voldemort, you were there, weren't you? You watched as he left me on a bloody doorstep unguarded in November, condemning me to ten years of hell! And you did nothing, did you, McGonagall? You saw what the Dursleys were like, and you did _nothing!_"

Minerva blinked rather rapidly, as Harry had hit her right where it hurt the most. She had doubted her agreement to Dumbledore's plans that night for years and years – moreover, she was a bit stunned by the manner in which he'd referred to her, so angrily.

"Harry, I repeat, _calm down_. Let go of me," said Dumbledore before McGonagall could formulate a reply. "I regret placing you with them, but it was the safest place for you...I know you have every right to be angry with your family, especially after the aftermath of the Dementor attacks tonight, but they _are_ your last blood relatives, and the ancient magic that binds you is the best magic can offer."

"Yes, they are, aren't they?" asked Harry, his lips curving into a cruel smirk. "This ancient magic – what exactly is it, Sir?"

Ginny watched as the colour drained out of Dumbledore's face –he seemed to be coming to a conclusion, a conclusion Harry already seemed to have arrived at already – a conclusion that Harry seemed to have disliked.

"Do I look stupid to you, Dumbledore?" asked Harry, his voice a deadly whisper, as he slowly let go of Dumbledore, who slid down to the floor, but seemed to be stooping before Harry. Or was it their imagination, or was Harry growing?

They watched as Harry drew himself to full height, and everyone came to the realisation that Ginny had some time ago, while Sirius and Remus smirked. Harry had obviously grown a lot in a short space of time. He was now quite tall for his age, but his most striking features were still his eyes -

With a jolt, they realised that his glasses were missing.

"Come on, Professor, what about you?" he asked, cocking his head at Minerva. "Could the son of Lily Evans and James Potter could be stupid?"

"Don't forget the two brilliant Godfathers!" interjected Sirius, but it did nothing to dissolve the silent tension in the room. Harry turned his gaze on his Godfather, who gulped a bit, before locking his lips with an imaginary key and throwing it away.

The twins and Ginny snorted. This Harry was different, he was powerful – strong, and the very way he held himself spoke of the power he commanded. Suddenly, the twins found themselves strongly doubting their assessment of Harry.

"Lily Evans and James Potter," said Harry, casually twirling his wand in his hand. "Two of the brightest students of their age – and their son turned out to be such a disappointment to you, didn't he, Professors?" he addressed both Snape, and McGonagall, who seemed to be fighting to let her horror show on her face.

"Harry James Potter, son of an extremely intelligent and powerful wizard and witch – mediocre in studies, barely above average in his power – showing none of the skill in either Transfiguration or Potions that his parents had..." The grin on Remus and Sirius' face was positively ecstatic now, while the Order members were morbidly interested, despite themselves – they had read the files on the boy and come to the same conclusion –

"The Triwizard Tournament proved otherwise -" offered McGonagall a bit timidly, but Harry snorted...that merely proved that Remus and Sirius' idea of a steady reveal had worked.

"So mediocre, so average, wasn't I? So easy to manipulate," continued Harry, "just the kind of Golden Boy Gryffindor you wanted, didn't you, Dumbledore? The perfect hero!" he directed his gaze on Dumbledore, whose face was unreadable. "But the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, didn't it, Headmaster?" There was a gasp from the entire room, _Harry Potter in Slytherin?_ Ginny, however, shifted in her seat...the Hat had wanted to do the same for her.

"That should've been your first clue, Dumbledore – I must have had _some_ qualities that would warrant my entry into the House of Serpents, right? Did you _really_ think that I would never notice, never understand?"

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out – she found herself too surprised to speak.

"Notice what, Mr. Potter?" the others didn't fail to notice the coolness in Dumbledore's voice, tinged with some trepidation, as well as the fact that he was referring to his favourite student as ''Mr. Potter' instead of the usual 'Harry' -

"Let's see...my first year, or rather, the time before it. Professor," he said, directing his gaze towards Minerva again, "is it common practice for Hogwarts, one of the premier magical institutions in the world, to send gamekeepers to Muggleborn students for their orientation to the magical world?"

"Don't be absurd, Ha- Mr. Potter! We at Hogwarts pride ourselves on our orientation programme, and the detailed yet comfortable way we ease each child into the magical world! If you would've paid more attention to your friends, Miss Granger would tell you I myself went to her house, and I do believe she didn't find me lacking –" From one end of the room, Hermione shook her head vigorously – Harry resisted the urge to scream out "Suck up!" –

"Well then, Professor," he continued, in a perfectly calm voice, "why was Hagrid sent to collect me and introduce me to the magical world, then? I mean, I have nothing against him, and he was one of my only true friends," he threw a pointed gaze at Ron and Hermione, "but you just said you don't send your gamekeeper out to houses!"

"And Hagrid was sent to yours?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at Dumbledore, her lips an extremely thin line.

"I felt it best," said Dumbledore, "because Hagrid knew both Lily and James, and he cared for Harry as well?"

"Oh, and Professor McGonagall didn't? If I recall, my father was her favourite student," McGonagall gave a nod, and Harry smiled for her at a split second, before turning back to Dumbledore, "why not send her?"

"What are you getting at, Potter?" growled Moody from his seat, "what possible agenda could the Headmaster have while sending a teacher to a Muggleborn's house – what could he possibly hide from an eleven year old?"

Harry levelled his gaze on Moody, and looked him up and down for a second before raising his eyebrows and coolly saying, "The fact that I have a family account at Gringotts holding an unbelievably large amount of money, over a dozen properties in England and the rest of the world, stakes in several multinational companies, both wizarding and Muggle, the fact that I'm the heir to the Black fortune as well. Good enough for you?"

Tonks took a second to appreciate the look on her mentor's face, certain that _no one_, not even Dumbledore could ever make him look like he'd just swallowed a sour lemon. Opposite her, Mrs. Weasley turned a weird pasty colour and let out a small squeak – while the Weasley twins had expressions of rapture on their faces – mumbling words like 'investors' and 'galleons' –

"But discounting that fact, I'm sure you're a busy man, it may simply have slipped your mind," said Harry to Dumbledore, who nodded and gave a smile, convincing absolutely no one in the room. "But let's look at other events in the year – how you _groomed_ me to be your Golden Hero..."

"What are you talking about, Potter?" for the first time, Ron spoke up, his eyes burning holes into Harry's.

"Weasley," Harry said, looking back straight into Ron's eyes, "I would tell you the truth, but you wouldn't believe me if the truth slapped you across the face with a dead fish, so kindly shut up!" Ron blushed a bright red, and raised his wand.

Harry's wand was pointed at him in seconds, "Don't try, Ron," he hissed dangerously. "You won't like some of the spells I learnt the past year -"

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley flinched – they'd heard about their son's fallout with Harry, and they'd hoped it wouldn't be too serious, but all their hopes seemed to be in vain. The worst part was that they couldn't favour their own son over Harry, because all his anger was completely justified, and Ron really should've been apologising on bended knee to his old best friend.

"You?" sneered Ron, "you couldn't cast a spell worth a damn! Don't you remember all these years, it was all Hermione, every bit? Don't you remember first year, from the first _Alohomora_ to the riddle in the final chamber – you would've been stuck there forever trying to figure out the meaning of the poem, while Hermione solved it in 10 minutes flat –"

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione turned pink and muttered a "Thank you, Ronald," while several Order members looked like they might start cooing any minute.

All eyes turned to Harry as he replied, "Firstly, I appeared to not be able to do anything, there's a very subtle difference. Secondly, I completely agree with you – I'm not good with riddles, only person I played it with and won was a Sphinx –"

Sirius let out a short bark of appreciative laughter.

And then he promptly shut up again at the look on Harry's face.

"But I admit, that riddle would've taken me some time. Hermione solved it in 10 minutes flat, which was honestly impressive," he gave a small, curt nod to Hermione, "except for the fact that it took me about 10 seconds to realise that the little black bottle on one end was only half full, which must've meant that it was the only viable option –" Not completely true, he had been too panicked to notice anything - but the flush and obvious shock on Hermione's face made it worth it.

There was utter silence in the room, broken by Fred and George's snorts.

"But more importantly, to the obstacles, Professor – you were guarding one of the most precious magical objects in history – tell me then, why exactly were your obstacles exactly tailor made for us?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" asked a square jawed, pink cheeked woman with black hair and grey eyes.

He turned to her, and she said, "Hestia Jones."

Harry smiled and took her hand and bent down to kiss it, eliciting a slight giggle. "Harry James Potter at your service, Madam Jones – but I'm sure, as intelligent as you are, you picked that up from our, er, conversation?" he gave her a lopsided grin, which made her laugh and nod a bit.

"Hestia, Harry, Madam Jones makes me feel old!"

"What, you're not eighteen?" said Harry, feigning surprise, while Hestia merely giggled.

"Full marks, Mr. Potter, as charming as your father!" she said.

"Did I just hear ickle Harrikins flirt?" asked Fred, in mock – horror.

"Oh my brother, what is this world coming to?"

Sirius leaned over, "He was taught by the best –" he said, grinning, "and he's descended from the best."

"But back to the topic," said Harry, waving his hands about. "I'm sure you've all read the files on my adventures, ladies and gentlemen – Professor Moody, if you will – can you remind the others of the obstacles we faced?"

"Dunno about Professor, boy, never got around to teaching much, did I?" grunted Moody. "Let me see, you had a three headed dog –"

"And Hagrid had gifted me a flute for Christmas – told me the Headmaster had said it'd be good for children those days to have a different hobby, and he'd taken those words to heart."

There was a silence, broken by Moody, "Devil's Snare –"

"We were given safety discourses at the beginning of the first year on plants we _have to_ avoid, and how to combat them when we come across them. I mean – why not use Venomous Tentacula – ? They're just as dangerous, and they thrive just as well in the dark!"

"Keys –"

"Oh my goodness," gasped Professor McGonagall, who seemed to have gone over the obstacles mentally herself and agreed with Harry, "tell me you didn't, Albus!"

"Oh he did, Professor," said Harry, while Dumbledore remained silent. "Not keys, Mad – Eye, flying keys – tailor made for the youngest seeker in a century, I'd say –"

"You're the youngest seeker in a century?" asked Dedalus Diggle in interest.

"Yes, Mr. Diggle," and Dedalus gave a small squeak of delight that Harry'd remembered his name.

"Oh I see now, lad –" said Moody, "A chessboard, next – and Weasley's profile shows that he's a minor prodigy in chess, a Troll, which Quirrell would undoubtedly knock out himself – and a riddle for the Granger girl. What were you thinking, Albus?" he growled, turning to look at the ancient Headmaster.

Dumbledore, for his part, appeared extremely weary at the proceedings, "You can find conspiracy theories everywhere, my friend, in the end, it comes down to whether you trust another person or not – and after all these years, it seems I've been unable to garner that trust in Mr. Potter..."

Many people looked mollified, and even looked a bit reproachingly at Harry, who scoffed, "Spare me the bullshit," he said, making people gasp, "how about we move onto the next year, then? And Headmaster," he continued, "this is something I'll never forgive you for – I get that you were raising me up to be the perfect Hero for the Light, but you put an 11 year old girl up as collateral, and risked her mental health as well as her life the entire year –"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, his face pale.

Ginny was similarly shocked, trying to understand what he was talking about – as well as a bit pleased that Harry was so indignant on her behalf.

"Let's go over the details that year, Mr. Weasley – students getting petrified right and left in the castle, and stories of a monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Now, if you knew what the monster was – would the correct choice be to take up measures against it, or to let a twelve year old deal with something that only Paracelsus had ever managed to kill in the entire history of wizardkind, besides the sea monster of Oyashio –"

"But then, let's look at it logically. If you do your homework, you'll find that there are exactly three magical creatures that can petrify their victims – a Medusa, a Basilisk, and a Cockatrice. Since Medusa turn their victims to stone, that couldn't be the monster in the Chamber, leaving only the Basilisk and the Cockatrice – but then again, someone was killing the roosters in the Castle, I'm sure Hagrid told Dumbledore about the weird way the spiders were acting – making the only viable option –"

"_The Basilisk_ ,"hissed Mr. Weasley, and Ginny was surprised to hear the venom in her father's voice.

"Exactly," said Harry, "and considering the fact that me and Voldemort are the only two Parselmouths alive, it was obvious that Voldemort was controlling a student or a teacher – you knew that, Headmaster, you knew that and you did nothing!"

"Silence!" said Dumbledore, losing his cool for the first time that night, "I will not have you criticizing the way I manage my students, or the concern I hold for them – Miss Weasley's possession by Lord Voldemort was an unfortunate event, and I regret being unable to save her faster. I will always remain in your debt for saving my school and its student,but you are taking this too far – finding patterns where there are none, incriminating me needlessly!"

"Indeed, Headmaster," interjected Snape silkily, "I always told you that Mr. Potter was an arrogant, spoiled brat like his father – yet you were too blind to listen –" However, as much as he wanted to write off Potter's words, his stories fit a little too well with reality for his liking...

"That will be enough, Severus. Harry, I am surprised to hear your assessment of your troubles in your life.I must confess, I had expected better from you after all these years...your lack of faith in me is most disappointing, child –"

_Don't call me a child,_ thought Harry, his temper rising perilously again,_you manipulative old bastard, using your honeyed words to entrance your order of mindless sheep...turning all your fucking plans onto me – I bet you had this possibility figured out, didn't you, Dumbledore ? Don't you fucking dare to call me a child!_

The files and cutlery on the table began to shake ominously –

"I think that the night's shock has unbalanced you a bit- you must understand, Harry, that I've done my best all these years – I placed you with the Dursleys for your own protection, and it was the best place to put you, in the cocoon of the magical protection –"

Harry lost his temper at that.

"DON'T YOU DARE, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he roared, "DON'T YOU FUCKING STAND THERE AND PRETEND TO BE SO HIGH AND MIGHTY, WHEN YOU PUT BLOOD WARDS AROUND THE HOUSE AND NEVER TOLD ME!"

"Mr. Potter, CALM DOWN!" yelled McGonagall, who had realised that Harry was indeed not in his right mind – however, a doubt niggled in her mind nevertheless – "Blood wards are extremely powerful protection devices –"

Her speech had no effect on Harry, and the magical waves that were coming off him were stifling the entire room, converting it to a boiler – His eyes were sparking in anger, his hair shifting in that breeze again –

"Harry, I order you to calm down this instant!" said Dumbledore, and the ancient wizard turned on his own aura as well, and the members of the Order gasped at the sheer power at his control – the entire visage of the Headmaster was changed, and they understood exactly why Voldemort had feared Albus Dumbledore –

Harry was forced to his knee by Dumbledore's Aura, the air around him sparking and flashing where the two magical fields collided –

"Harry, CALM DOWN!" commanded Dumbledore again, and Harry went down on both knees, unable to withstand the assault. Remus shot up from his chair to make his way over to Harry, but was saved by Sirius who pulled him back in a split second –

The very air around Harry contracted for a second, and then his magical force exploded outwards with the force of a small bomb. A hurricane of green flame exploded out from his body, sending Dumbledore flying, while a wave of fire obliterated everything that was lying on the table, leaving it bare, and miraculously clean too.

Ginny gasped when Harry stood up again, tiny green flames licking his entire frame – she felt herself breathing a bit heavier too as Harry's raw power invaded her own personal space and her own magic, understanding for the first time why the witches in her mother's cheesy romance novels were so attracted to the handsome, powerful wizards...

'YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME AURA, OLD MAN?" he yelled, all traces of civility gone, "YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME FUCKING AURA!?"

Dumbledore stood up weakly, his wand drawn, and the other Order members mirrored his actions and advanced on Harry to try and subdue him. Sirius and Remus as well as Ginny and the twins did the same, but their wands pointed at the Order members rather than at Harry – it was pointless however, as Harry's next words stopped all the adults dead in their tracks –

"I KNOW EXACTLY HOW BLOOD WARDS BEHAVE, YOU BASTARD!"

Harry took a deep breath before continuing in a soft voice, "You knew all these years, and you did nothing! You knew how I was abused throughout my childhood, but you sat in your office and twiddled your thumbs and did nothing!"

The mouths of everyone in the room fell open in shock. Normally, Harry would never talk about his dark past, but he was too far gone to be embarrassed, and once he'd begun, he found it hard to stop.

"Answer me, Headmaster! Look me in the eye, and tell me that you weren't the slightest bit aware that I would be beaten and bruised every opportunity my Aunt and Uncle had!"

"And you know what?" he asked, bulding up steam again. "I lay down and took it all, because they'd convinced me that I was a no-good freak of nature! They made me believe I deserved their punishments because I was a _freak_, a burden!I believed them when they told me that my parents were no good drunks who had died in a car crash!"

Gasps and exclamations of outrage filled the room, even the mild-mannered looked repulsed, despite his love for muggles.

"ALL THIS TIME YOU KNEW, YOU KNEW EVERY DETAIL ABOUT THAT HELLHOLE! YOU KNEW, AND YOU DID NOTHING!" Harry ground to a halt, his chest heaving, realising that he'd revealed far too much. He stopped short, but raised his wand, his eyes sparkling with years of suppressed anger.

Tears were pouring down Mrs. Weasleys cheeks as she shook her head – as if trying to convince herself that the words her surrogate son was speaking was false. Mr. Weasley was gripping onto his wife tightly, his face white and pinched.

"Harry, you must believe that I did it because I cared -"

"DON'T LIE, OLD MAN! You never checked up on me even once! You kept Remus away from me even though you knew he'd gone into a depression -" pitying glances were thrown Remus' way, but he turned a blind eye.

"You knew it wouldn't matter to me that he was a werewolf, that I wouldn't care, because he was a living tangible link to my parents! Tell me, Headmaster, if you cared so much, why did you never come rescue me from the _Cupboard _under the stairs, where I lived my entire childhood?"

Eyes turned to Fred and George temporarily as they swore - they'd witnessed the tiny cupboard the summer before Harry's second year, and they couldn't believe that he'd grown up there.

Harry seemed to have exhausted himself with his tirade, as he fell silent, breathing heavily, too angry to even find words – Ginny felt her eyes grow heavy with tears as she processed what she'd just heard over the past few minutes, and she wanted to join Sirius and Remus as they stood on either side of Harry with their hands on his shoulder, glowering down at Dumbledore - to try and comfort him after all he'd gone through.

The faces of the men in the room were extremely drawn, even Snape looked like he'd been hit with a loaded bludger. Most of the women were crying openly, and she was shocked to see silent tears leaking down even McGonagall's face.

"I never knew," she whispered to herself, "I never knew." Ginny walked over to her and put a firm grip on her shoulder, feeling a traitorous tear drop down her own cheek – McGonagall threw her a grateful look and leaned heavily into her, seeming utterly spent – for the first time, she realised how old her favourite Transfiguration teacher really was...

Dumbledore looked utterly broken as well, silent tears leaking down his face, his mouth opening and closing quietly in horror –

"Don't expect me to fall for your plans, Dumbledore," said Harry, his voice low once again, but the depth of raw emotion inside it overwhelmed the adults, "you can be some Great Leader of the Light, but that does not make you God, it doesn't give you the right to control and manipulate my life to fit my callings –"

He raised his hands when Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, "Don't lie and make it worse, Headmaster...you may have convinced others, but I will hold on to my beliefs, and I _know_ it's true – but I don't care anymore," he said, sounding much older than he should at his age, "but remember this, Headmaster, when the time comes, I will not fight –"

There was a shocked gasp around the room.

"When the time comes," continued Harry, "I will not fight for you – you may have defeated Grindelwald, you may have been the most powerful wizard of your age – but I _will not_ fight for you. I will fight for the light, for my family, for my parents, for myself – but never for you, because you've taken my trust, my feelings, and my entire life and played with it – and I'll never trust you again."

"Stay away from me," he concluded, his voice firm and strong, "and I mean it, Headmaster. I suggest you try and fight a war instead of wasting your time pondering your relationship with me. You didn't do very well in the past, and I don't think you'll do very well in the future, either."

"And for future reference, just remember, no one died and made you God, sir." And with that parting shot, he turned and shrugged off the hands from his shoulder and walked out from the room, leaving behind a stunned silence.

**A/N: Chapter underwent huge edit as of 11/10/2012. Removed the Cliched Caps Lock screaming - mostl. Made more sense of everything. Gave Harry some time to grow, instead of miraculously removing his glamours before everyone. Another cliche dealt with hopefully.**

**Justified his slacking off, instead of him showing extreme Slytherin cunning at age 12. Another cliche dealt with hopefully. No Level 7 magical bonds, the amount of fics I've come across with Magical Bonds upon Harry's person is frightening.**

**All in all, a Cliche cleanup! To new readers, enjoy, and read and review, and be glad, because this was much worse before. Will be editing the other chapters soon. DOWN WITH CLICHES!**


	3. Aftermath and Aerial Battle

**Disclaimer: I own none of it. All JKR's.**

_~ In slow motion, the blast is beautiful_  
_Doors slam shut_  
_A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away_  
_Safe and sound ~ Snow Patrol_

**Chapter 3: Aftermath and Aerial Battle**

The resounding silence that was left in the room after Harry walked out seemed to intensify with every passing second. Dumbledore was standing at the front of the room, looking every bit of his age, McGonagall was trying to reign in her tears, and Molly was still sniffling into her husband's collar.

Sirius and Remus, on the other hand, looked angry for the first time that evening. In fact, angry would be an understatement – Remus looked like he would transform into a werewolf that very instant and start tearing the room apart. Dumbledore, it seemed, had caught the look in the two men's eyes. He sighed heavily.

"Children, I would request you to leave the room – we have matters to discuss, and I think Harry would appreciate some comfort right now," he said tiredly, and for once, none of them protested as they shuffled out of the room.

They branched away at the staircase, Ron and Hermione went up to their respective rooms, in deep discussion. It seemed that Harry's revelations had struck them hard, and the others caught some words like, "betrayal of trust" and "best friend lied to us". Ginny resisted the urge to hex them for worrying about that instead of Harry himself; there would be time enough for that.

Instead, she made her way into the living room with Fred and George, and found Harry leaning back on the old moth–eaten sofa, his eyes closed, and his legs stretched out before him.

Yes, she hadn't been imagining things – he was certainly taller than before, and more well proportioned too – his efforts at the Triwizard Tournament seemed to have paid off.

He cracked open an eye as he heard them approach, and it roved over the three of them and flitted towards the door once, and it closed once again as he let out a small sigh. It seemed Ron and Hermione weren't coming to talk to their once best friend, and even for Harry, it hurt a bit. They had been his first friends, no matter how harsh their falling out had been – and the fact that they hadn't even come to see him after he'd just confessed to a childhood of abuse and neglect cut him deeply.

He didn't seem quite comfortable with his confessions themselves, too. That much was obvious from his uncomfortable fidgeting, which showed that he'd ended up saying more than he'd wanted to.

For once, even the twins struggled to speak – Fred tried, though –

"Harry, mate," he said, "I had no idea, Harry –"

Harry raised a hand and waved it tiredly, "Don't mention it, Fred there's no way you could know. Moreover, there's nothing you can do now; it's all in the past now..."

"No," persisted George, "you are our friend, Harry! We should have noticed earlier!"

"George," said Harry in mock humour, "I think you wouldn't have noticed unless I expressly told you, because I _am_ rather good at keeping secrets, if I do say so myself. Now, if we could move on..."

By unspoken consent, they understood, and decided to avoid the topic of Harry's childhood and his accusations of Dumbledore -

"Well, that doesn't mean we won't let it go just like that!" muttered George.

Fred nodded. "No one hurts our partner and then walks away like that – it'd hurt our image!"

"So it _was_ you who gave the twits all that money!" said Ginny, grinning in satisfaction. This was worth a tonne of gold in blackmail against them!

The twins paled, but Harry cracked an eyelid open again, "Partner?" he enquired, sounding amused.

"25% of all profits WWW makes will be promptly sent to you every month as soon as we're up and running and have our store – along with reports and other paperwork," replied Fred solemnly.

"You are serious about this, aren't you?" said Harry. The Twins nodded emphatically.

"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" The Twins shook their heads in tandem this time.

Shrugging, Harry grinned and said, "Well, I'll see if we can get a lawyer to do anything about it, then –"

The twins' faces burst into expressions of glee, which were wiped away the moment Ginny spoke up, "I want free merchandise for a year!" She wasn't foolish enough to think her blackmail would longer than that, because Fred and George would be out of Hogwarts at the end of this year and out of their Mother's reach too.

"Excuse me?" said George, sounding like she'd suggested that he put on a dress and go on a date with Snape.

"No one gets free merchandise other than Harrikins and Fred and George Jrs!" said Fred indignantly.

"On that note, Harry, Happy Birthday! You get free merchandise from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for the rest of your extremely dangerous and accident – prone life!"

Harry who was again relaxing on the sofa, cracked his eye open for the third time and began to protest, but Fred cut him off. "You gave us the means to fulfil our dreams, Harry – it's always free for you, because it wouldn't have any hopes of existing without you!"

"Can't argue with something that deep," said Harry wistfully. "Thanks, guys!" The twins and Ginny were a bit taken aback. Normally, Harry would take his protestations to unnatural heights, but he seemed to have changed quite a bit.

The twins nodded, and solemnly shook his hand before pulling him into one armed hugs and slapping his back.

He turned to Ginny, "Well?" he asked expectantly. "No Birthday hug from the pretty redhead?"

"Harry, mate," said Fred, suddenly sounding scared.

"Maybe you aren't feeling too well –"

"Did you just call our ickle baby sister, Gin – Gin –"

"_Pretty?"_

"I don't know Georgie, maybe he needs his glasses after all –"

"What is with that, anyway, Harrikins?"

"Contact lenses," explained Harry, "I got them after my third year – they're little plastic covers that Muggles put on their eye to see better – they're a damn sight more comfortable and more useful then my glasses too. Much harder to lose as well. Would be damn useful if I found out about them during the Tournamnent."

He had, in fact, found out about them during the Tournament. The glasses had been a diversion, because Remus thought that there could be rounds of duelling. Naturally, his opponents would think that the best way to catch him off guard would be to disable his sight, so they would be in for a rude shock.

That was not something he was willing to advertise, though. Magical contact lenses often had certain...extra uses, which could cause undue controversy surrounding the Tournament.

"Well, I for one think the look suits you fine," piped up Ginny, repressing the thought that she sounded like a breathless 11 year old, "and I also think I can't blame your taste in girls, don't I, gits?" she said, turning to Fred and George and pulling out her wand.

"You can't do magic here –"said George quickly.

"Actually, she can," interjected Harry , "the house is Unplottable and has the Fidelius around it – you can do magic within a radius of a hundred meters –"

"Thanks a lot, Harry," muttered Fred before saying out loud, "Of course we don't blame his taste in girls, do we, George?"

"Nothing wrong with psychotic redheaded women, not at all, thank you very much, Freddie!" Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes, only the twins would find a way to insult her while agreeing with her!

"I should be offended," spoke up Harry from behind, "all the men in my family have been marrying redheaded women for the past 11 generations, for some reason."

Fred grinned evilly at Ginny, ignoring her death glare, and said, "That speaks volumes about the sanity of your family, mate..."

"But I think that statement will make one redhead we know very happy, eh, Fred?"

"Who knows?" said Harry, "maybe I'll break the tradition ...I _have_ been known for doing that sort of stuff. But don't worry," he said, flashing Ginny a grin, "if I ever do consider redheads, you'll be at the top of the list! The Valentine gave you a head start on the others –"

Fred and George broke into howls of laughter, while Ginny resisted the urge to blush. She felt conflicted – one on hand, Harry had said he might break the tradition (she cursed Cho bloody Chang) on the other (she did blush internally) she was on top of the redhead list, at least.

"Oh, I feel so loved," she grumbled, "You know perfectly well it was Fred and George and not me who sent you that Valentine you git! Happy Birthday, Harry," she said, pulling him into a hug, and then reaching up on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek, feeling a bit brave.

Fred and George said nothing, because it had been her who had sent the Valentine and they'd merely talked her into it – but they wouldn't ever reveal that unless they wanted their mum to know who'd exactly broken her favourite vase while trying to develop their Jumping Jellies.

It didn't hurt, either, that it was actually _her_ who'd broken the vase, and Fred had readily accepted it was him after he'd turned human once again from a mass of bluish grey gloop, and then begged her to keep it a secret.

"You break my heart with that revelation, fair maiden," said Harry jokingly, grinning down at her. He tilted his head down at her. "When did you get so tiny?" he asked.

It was true, her head barely tickled his chin right now, but she decided she liked it – it placed her head right on his chest, and that was a very nice place for her head to be...

_Michael..._said a small part of her brain.

_Michael who?_ Said a larger, lately dormant part of her brain.

"Well, you didn't have to grow so tall over the holidays!" she shot back.

"You're wouldn't hold something that silly against me, would you?" asked Harry, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh yes we would," said all three Weasleys proudly together, their heads bobbing up and down in synchronisation.

"But it's my Birthday, Ginny!" he pouted, making huge puppy dog eyes down at her.

She was almost blinded by the amount of emotion shining in them –it seemed as if there seemed to be stars flowing out from those giant, green eyes (when did they get so large and so much more beautiful?)

She felt her heart melt into pieces – "Oh, alright," she conceded, "just not tonight!"

Harry's face broke into an evil grin, something too close to Fred and George for comfort. "Works like a charm every time," he said, laughing, "I have to thank Sirius for teaching me how to make puppy dog eyes!"

Fred and George exchanged glances, and then their faces split into wide, identical grins.

"I don't know about you, Gred, but I most certainly like this Harrikins –"

"Don't I know it, Forge, imagine what other tricks he has up his sleeve –"

"Or up other places where the sun don't shine!"

"Oh you don't know half of it," said Harry airily, and their smiled widened.

He was, however distracted by Ginny. Her eyes were large and swimming with tears, and her bottom lip was trembling as she looked up at him.

"I thought you were feeling bad for real because you'd never had a nice Birthday before – but you just made-fun of me!" The trembling increased, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. He'd never noticed, really, how brown and sparkly her large eyes were...

Almost as if by their own accord, his hands went up around Ginny, and he rubbed her back, anxiously speaking, "I'm sorry, Gin, I didn't mean to hurt you, honestly! I was just joking!" He stopped, as Ginny's shoulders began shaking. For one horrific moment, he thought that she was crying on him, before she stepped back, laughing.

"You're good, Potter, but you have a lot to learn."she said, grinning. "When you grow up in the jungle, you end up a master...and no one fools a master!"

Harry was impressed, despite himself. "Nicely done, Weasley," he said, grinning at her.

"Oh, I try," she said, airily checking her nails. "I don't have a gift for you, though, so I'll just add on my one year of free goods to your lifetime's supply..."

Fred and George, who'd been laughing at Ginny's antics, shut up immediately.

"Hey!" said Fred indignantly, "Didn't we tell you?"

"No. Free. Merchandise." Ground out George, his face stern.

"Fine," said Ginny, "I think I'll talk to Mum after the meeting, about her son's future prospects, hmmm? Or maybe about some Owl Order sheets that are lying about the house –"

"You play a dangerous game, Gin," said George, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, I know how to play the game too well, and you two gorillas don't scare me!" she replied. "And don't – call – me – _Gin_!" she said, fingering her wand again.

None of the twins thought that it would be a good idea to point out that she'd let Harry call her that moments ago.

"You know, Weasley, just when I thought I had you figured out, you surprise me," Said Harry, coming to their rescue. "I mean, I thought all you could do was blush and squeak, and now I find you playing hardball with the pros..."

"Oh, you don't know half of it!" she said, not letting on how much the "blush and squeak" comment embarrassed her.

"So you don't normally blush and squeak, then?" asked Harry, with his trademark lopsided grin.

Ginny hit him on the arm, "No I don't, you git! I was 11, for god's sakes! And you were supposed to be a legendary hero who wrestled with trolls and hunted vampires! And then you turned out to be a skinny git who hung out with my wanker brothers!"

Harry laughed; Sirius had teased him for hours on end after reading the fictional stories about the Baby-Boy-Who-Lived, and then earned Harry several thousand galleons by suing the publishers.

"You hurt me, woman!" he said, clutching his heart in mock distress. "Isn't killing a bloody basilisk enough for you?"

"Women today," he told Fred and George, shaking his head, "such high maintenance..."

"You know, Harry," began Ginny a bit tentatively, "I thought about it this evening, and I never really thanked you for saving me from the Chamber –"

"And you won't ever have to," cut off Harry before she could continue, "and you never would have been taken to the Chamber unless if it were for me –"

There was silence for a full moment, before Ginny broke it, almost choking in surprise, "How thick can you get, really? I wrote in that Diary, Harry, it was only a matter of time before it happened!"

"But –"

"No buts," she said firmly. "You saved me, and I never thanked you. Thank you," she said, hugging him, before reaching up and kissing his other cheek.

It felt good, her kissing him, to be honest.

"You know, I never thanked you guys either. You believed me when nobody else did last year."It was left unsaid but understood by everyone in the room exactly who "nobody" was.

"We're your friends, Harry," said Fred solemnly.

"And unlike others," said George disgustedly, "we believe in our friends."

"Damn straight," said Ginny proudly.

Harry smiled. "Not friends," he said, "best friends." He pulled Ginny into a hug, but her insides were conflicting again. One on hand, she felt overjoyed that she was best friends with him, but on the other hand, the word "friend" clutched badly at her heart.

She stopped wondering about it, though, when he leant down and kissed her cheeks. "Thank you," he said.

It felt good too, him kissing her, to be honest.

This best friend thing was not going to be easy.

He turned to Fred and George, who backed away. "As much as we like you, Harry, kissing just isn't our thing..."

"I agree, Harry, let our bromance remain just that...a bromance."

"But guys," whined Harry, "I thought you liked me! You sent me that Valentine!"

"Oh no," protested Fred immediately, "that was Ginny all along, sorry!"

"And you were never supposed to say that to _any_one!" said Ginny, her face lighting up like a beacon instantly.

Fred looked like his funeral had arrived early.

Ginny raised her wand, and Harry decided to come to Fred's rescue.

"Well, I thought you didn't blush, Weasley?" he said, grinning. Ginny rounded on him instead, her wand still raised. Behind her, Fred's eyes widened, and he mouthed a huge "thank you".

"Oh, I don't, but I generally don't send Valentine's to people in fits of insanity!"

"So you'd never send me a Valentine when you're sane?" asked Harry in a hurt voice.

The twins had a hard time suppressing their laughter- this was shaping up to be a brilliant source of entertainment.

"That's not what I meant!" said Ginny, blushing again.

"Oh, you're easy!" said Harry, laughing. "Blushed again! Potter -2, Weasley – 0!"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. Best friend or not, that was a clear challenge, and she was about to give as good as she got when it came to competition!

"Dream on, Potter, and maybe I will blush for you...only in your dreams!" she countered.

"That's a lame reply," said Harry loftily. "But that's how it's going to be, is it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh yes it is, Potter!"

"Potter, now, am I?" he asked, his eyebrow still raised. "Whatever happened to the hero-who-conquered-the-Dark-Lord?"

"I saw his tartan boxers, and the ones with the bunny rabbits on them too –"

It was Harry's turn to blush, as Fred and George roared with laughter. "W – what? My boxers, Ginny!"

Ginny grinned in victory.

"This means war, you do know, Weasley, because Potter's never back down from challenges!" said Harry, his eyes narrow.

"Just as well, Potter, because Weasleys never _lose_ any challenges!"

Fred and George were ecstatic at the new betting pools this signalled for them...

"Oh well," said Harry, shrugging, "I never did thank you for the Valentine, Ginny – _thank you_," he intoned sweetly, and then bent down to kiss her cheek again, lingering for a moment this time.

"We'll just see how much you can blush, won't we Weasley? Because I generally don't lose –" he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

"Fallen off any brooms and missed the snitch lately, Potter? Because I remember a rather crushing loss that time..." returned Ginny, trying to ignore the way his breath on her ear sent her hear pitter – pattering, while simultaneously pushing down the rosy tint that appeared on her cheeks.

"I'll get you for that, Weasley," growled Harry in her ear, and she resisted the urge to shiver, "that was low."

"Weasleys don't fight, Potter," said Ginny as he pulled away, "we fight to win –"

"True," said George, nodding his head. "It's the Weasley family code –"

"What's the Weasley family code?" asked Sirius as he walked into the living room, the other Order members trailing in behind him as well. It seemed the meeting was over – and judging by the looks on their faces, Dumbledore had definitely worked his charm on them.

Harry sighed, but then grinned a bit. At least he'd had his say that evening, and in style too. If only he'd just though a bit before leaving the Dursleys in a fit of accidental magic, then everything would be even better.

"Apparently, it's 'Fight to Win'" said Harry archly.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, his eyes twinkling, but then he snapped it shut, the shine in his eyes dying out.

"We need to talk, you and I," he said seriously, his face dark.

"I quite agree," said Remus, his voice low, as he walked up and stood beside Sirius.

Harry looked up at the pair of them and rolled his eyes , "I told you the Dursleys didn't treat me well, guys," he said. "Let it go, they don't dare to do it anymore, and it doesn't bother me anymore."

The both of them immediately began to protest, but Harry cut them off with his big shining eyes "Please, guys, it's my birthday, remember?"

"Dammit," muttered Sirius, "I shouldn't have taught you how to do that. Whatever, this conversation is not over, Pup! I still retain the right to prank them senseless, though!"

"You won't be getting the chance, Sirius! I'm not ever going back to them!" said Harry, hardly hiding the glee in his voice. He held his hand up in the classic high-five position, but nobody obliged him. His eyes narrowed.

There was pin drop silence in the room – it seemed everyone seemed to have picked up on his statement and fallen silent at once.

In the end, it was broken by Sirius.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" he yelled loudly. "Fifteen, eh, Harry?" he grinned, failing to convince absolutely anyone in the room. "A big man!"

Harry merely raised his eyebrow at him.

Sirius kept the grin on his face.

Harry's eyebrow inched higher.

Sirius' grin faltered, but held.

Harry gave him _the_ look – the one Lily Potter gave you right before she charmed your underwear to shrink mercilessly through the day while hexing your bits to erupt into rashes simultaneously.

The grin disappeared faster than breakfast down Ron's gullet.

"Well, you see..." began Sirius, "you won't be living with the Dursleys ever again..."

"_But?"_asked Harry, his voice perfectly calm.

"But..."

"Yes, but?"

"You see..."

"_Sirius,"_ began Harry in a warning tone.

"You have to live at the Dursleys for a week while Dumbledore sets up protection around this place for your safety –" said Sirius in a rushed voice. Harry had the hardest time keeping his poker face on. He resisted the urge to give a mock-theatrical evil laugh, and instead schooled his face into a cool, furious look.

"I see," said Harry, his voice still low and perfectly flat. "And where is Dumbledore, so that I can take this up with him?"

"He used his phoenix to leave," growled Moody, "said he was in a hurry." _In other words__, he didn't want to face you._

"And Potter," said Moody, "this is about the best deal you'll get, and it's not that long anyway, so I suggest you shut your mouth and take it. Besides, you have been shaken up by today, and you need some time to straighten yourself out. And we all know how you teens like to be alone when you're sinking in your angst!"

There was a nod of general agreement with some chuckles going around the room, and Harry felt disgusted to see even Molly nod along with them.

Of course, Harry, like everyone else, failed to notice Arthur, who'd remained completely silent throughout the meeting, and even after its conclusion. In his defence, nobody ever _did_ notice Arthur, did they?

Harry turned to look at Mad- Eye, who gazed defiantly back at him. It seemed even the hardened Auror, who had been so interested in his theories minutes ago, had taken Dumbledore's side concerning the matter.

However, Harry felt that somehow he still stood a chance with the grizzled Auror. Mad-Eye didn't seem like someone who'd take anyone at face value, even Dumbledore, without doing some digging himself. And he inwardly had no qualms with a quick return to Privet Drive, though he wasn't about to let it show.

"Why do I have to go back? Can't he do the wards while I'm staying here? And how _will_ I go back?" putting on the sullen argument, for arguments sake.

"No you can't, lad – Dumbledore's orders. And he left a Portkey for you, it'll activate at eleven." He chucked a small amulet at him, "Keep it on at all times; I'll know when you've arrived!" he said, "no funny business!"

Harry didn't have any illusions about the wards that Dumbledore would be putting up around the place – more likely than not they would be more ways to keep tabs on him while he was at the Headquarters. A house which was as ridiculously protected as this one needed no other wards for added safety.

He finally decided on giving a small nod, and ignoring the subtle sigh of relief that went around the room. It seemed that no one was eager for a replay of the evening's event.

Immediately, everyone began milling around him, offering hugs and handshakes and birthday wishes, and for the next ten minutes, he forced himself to exchange pleasantries with them and also subject himself to one of Mrs. Weasleys crushing hugs, who immediately bustled off to the kitchen to whip up a birthday dinner for him.

She did seem all teary–eyed though, muttering under her breath about Muggles who should be cursed to Hell and back for treating such a "sweet, innocent boy" so badly. It was only after several assurances from Harry, and another crushing hug before she relented. Harry felt ashamed for his previous thoughts about her; for all her faults, Mrs. Weasley really did care about him. Mr. Weasley, as sober as ever, only wished him a Happy Birthday and offered Harry his best wishes.

Finally, only McGonagall and Snape were left, both of whom, it seemed, had stayed behind in the kitchen to clean up after the meeting, and also repair the wreckage he'd caused.

For the first time, McGonagall seemed to be struggling to speak before him. "Mr. Pot – Harry – I had no idea," she said, stumbling a bit over her words.

"For the last time, you had no way of knowing, and you really couldn't have done anything about it!" protested Harry, this was getting old really fast.

"I'm your Head of House!" she said, but Harry quickly cut her off.

"And we all love you for that, Minnie – so just let it go –"

"Very well, Mr. Potter, but I cannot account for any sudden transformations your family may undergo if they ever come across my wand," she said, her lips a thin line, and Harry grinned. For all her strictness, she really was a softie. "Happy Birthday, Harry, but what I would like to know is how your Godfather has already corrupted you so much that you're using the nickname he coined for me?" her lips twitched upward a bit.

"Trust me, Minnie dearest, there wasn't much left to corrupt," said Sirius with a cheeky grin, "and hands off, Potter, Minnie's all mine!"

"Detention, Black!" said McGonagall, and then sighed. "That's almost become reflex for me now." She turned to Harry, saying, "I sincerely hope you won't be following in your Godfather or your Father's footsteps, Mr. Potter. I would suggest you take Lily's path instead."

"Oh don't worry, Professor, I think I'll be doing a bit of both now," said Harry, grinning cheekily, and Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "Can't have a boring year for me now, can we?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes and walked off, muttering about how her lifespan seemed to be getting shorter with every passing year Harry Potter spent at Hogwarts. Sirius followed, cheerily talking to her, which only seemed to aggravate her further.

"Maybe you'll finally be showing some aptitude for Potions, then, Potter, instead of your normal bumbling inaccuracy," said a silky voice behind him, and he turned to face Professor Snape, who was sneering at him, as always. "I distinctly remember you blowing me into a wall when you entered the kitchen, Mr. Potter, I think an apology would be in order."

"Of course, sir," said Harry smoothly, without batting an eyelash, "I'll be sure to apologise to the wall."

Fred, George and Ginny, who'd been coming over to talk to Harry, froze midstep, unable to believe their ears.

The look on Snape's face was inscrutable, and he looked at Harry for a long moment, and Harry stared straight back at him. After a second that was an eternity, black eyes left green, and Snape stalked off down the hallway, appearing his usual bat – like self, and then the heard the front door of the house slam shut forcefully. The bang reverberated throughout the house. Something told him he wouldn't be enjoying Potions Class this year; but then, did he ever?

"Wow, Harry, you must be very brave or very stupid," piped up a voice behind him, and he turned to see a young woman with vibrant pink hair, a heart shaped face and dark, twinkling eyes grinning at him. "Never seen anyone talk back to Snape like that – Nymphadora Tonks," she said, extending her hand, "but if you want to live, refer to me solely as Tonks. Snape will be a pushover next to me if you _ever_ use my first name!"

A bit overwhelmed by her overall look and her fast speech, Harry took a moment before he fully computed what she was saying. And even then, he exclaimed, "You're one of the guards for my house!"

She raised a pink eyebrow. "Don't miss much, do you, Potter? I wonder what else _skills_ you might be hiding, eh, Potter?"

"Don't bother, Tonks," said Fred as he walked over, clutching Butterbeers, and handed one each to her and Harry, "Apparently, Potter men prefer only redheads."

"You know, that joke got old the moment I said it," said Harry in exasperation.

"Oh, that's not a problem," said Tonks, and she screwed up her face for a moment before her hair turned bright red.

He couldn't help it, he gasped, and she laughed at the look on his face. "I'm a Metamorphmagus," she explained, "able to change my appearance at will. And before you ask, it's not something you can learn, it's inherited." She concentrated again for a few moments, and then, standing before him, complete with brown eyes and fiery hair was –

"Wow, Ginny," whistled Harry appreciatively, "you grow up nice!" Fred and George had nauseous looks on their faces at his words.

"Prat!" said Ginny, "Look all you want, because that's all you'll able to do, Potter! And Tonks, please change back before Mum comes back and has an attack."

"Oh yes," said George, "I don't think the Weasleys could handle another Ginny to go with the one we already have..."

"Speaking of Weasleys," said Harry, "Where's Percy?"

The faces of all the gathered redheads turned dark, and Tonks slipped off; this was obviously a delicate matter for the Weasleys. Harry's face grew dark as well when they told him about Percy's fight with Mr. Weasley and his subsequent estrangement from the family.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, "It's my fault –"

Ginny reached over and smacked him smartly upside the head. "Ow!" he protested, "What was that for?"

"For being a stupid git –" said George calmly.

"The fight has been a long time coming –" said Fred.

"He always did have great ambitions for himself, did Percy –"

"Being a Weasley never was really good enough for him..."

Harry didn't really know what to say to that – but he was saved the trouble of replying when Sirius came over and engaged them in conversation, followed by Lupin and Mr. Weasley.

And in a few more minutes, Molly emerged, announcing that dinner was ready.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get any cake, dear," she said mournfully.

"That's not a problem at all," he said cheerfully. "I don't think I've even had a birthday dinner before, so this is a first for me anyway!"

His proclamation was followed by an uncomfortable silence, which got only more prolonged when Ron and Hermione walked into the kitchen and their eyes met with Harry.

"Well, let's eat!" said Lupin quickly, "the food looks wonderful, Molly!"

And conversation started up again. People took their places around the table, and Harry found himself sitting between the twins with his godfather and Remus opposite to him.

"So, are they together, then?" he asked the twins, nodding a bit at Ron and Hermione, together at one end of the table.

"You'd hope so..." they snorted.

"Still fighting and biting each other's head off –"

"And Ronniekins still hasn't managed to ask her out –"

"They don't change at all, do they, Freddie?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Harry darkly, "there was a time when they would wish me on my birthday, but that seems to have changed."

There was another silence in his part of the table after he said that for a few moments.

"Oh forget them, Harry," said Sirius nonchalantly, "why would you miss their company, when you had your brilliant, charming and handsome Godfather with you last year, and you're going to spend the end of your summer with him?"

McGonagall, who was a few places down the table, caught this immediately, and turned to look at Harry, her eyes sharp.

"What's that, Mr. Potter?" she asked, in her Head-of-House voice.

Harry threw Sirius a dirty look before turning to her and smiling, "Oh, nothing really, Professor..."

"Nothing at all," said Sirius, smiling sweetly at his godson, "Harry couldn't bear the thought of his Godfather alone and hunted in a cave in Hogsmeade, so he made arrangements for me to hide in the castle all of last year!"

"_Sirius_", groaned Harry.

"Don't be too bothered, Harry," soothed Lupin, "he always was a braggart when it came to his stories and pranks," he said with a grin.

"I resent that," said Sirius.

"As you well should, Mr. Black," said McGonagall crisply. "I would have thought better of you Mr. Potter! Hiding a convicted criminal inside the castle while he was on the run from the law, what would happen if he were apprehended?"

"He wouldn't be," said Harry. "There are some places in Hogwarts which are near–impossible to breach."

She stared at him for a long moment, before sighing, "I have no idea what to do with you, Mr. Potter. But since this happened last year, I cannot punish you for your crimes (Sirius let out a whoop). However, I advise you to exercise more caution this year. I will have to report this to the Headmaster, as well, because there was an intruder in the castle whom he didn't know about."

Harry made a quick note of the fact that the Headmaster really couldn't sense anyone hiding in the Room of Requirement, something he'd been suspecting for a long time.

"However, I am glad you spent time together with him," she told his Godfather, giving Sirius one of her rare smiles. "He'd need some support from family during the events of last year."

Harry almost laughed at the way Sirius unconsciously puffed up in pride when she said they were a family, but he couldn't banish the warm feeling within him, either.

"Just out of interest," said Tonks, who'd been listening (it seemed the entire table had been, as well), "where exactly did you hide him?"

"Isn't it obvious?" scoffed Hermione suddenly, "the Chamber of Secrets, Harry being the only one who can open it!"

Tonks seemed satisfied and nodded, but Harry felt a distinct pleasure in saying, "Wrong, Hermione."

She looked affronted. "Where else would you hide him, then?"

"Oh, here and there..." was the nonchalant reply, and Sirius snorted. Hermione huffed, but her eyes narrowed. He would bet his bank vault that she'd be going rigorously through "Hogwarts: A History" before she turned in for the night to try and find any suitable hiding places.

"Well, Happy Birthday, then, Harry," she said stiffly, and Harry, a bit surprised, just nodded in acceptance. Knowing Hermione, she may have been wishing him for the sake of manners and appearances for all he knew.

"So where did you hide him, then?" asked Mrs. Weasley, but Fred cut her off.

"Don't bother, Mum. When Harry decides to keep mum about something, not even You-Know-Who can force it out of him!"

"That actually _is_ true, funnily enough," said Harry with a grin, even though his heard turned to ice as he thought of his last meeting with Voldemort.

Everybody at the table gave up their pretences of conversations and swung their faces around at him as one.

"What?" asked Hestia in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort's Imperius," he said nonchalantly, rather enjoying the gasps and exclamations of surprise. "He wanted me to confess that his Cruciatus hurt like hell, but I wasn't about to oblige the bastard!"

Everybody was so stunned that Mrs. Weasley even forgot to reprimand him about his language.

"You fought off _the Dark Lord's_ Imperius curse after he hit you with the Cruciatus?" asked Tonks, her mouth hanging open.

"Meh, all in a days work," said Harry, trying to pass it off as a joke even though he could almost still feel the phantom pain from the curse if he thought about it.

Before anybody could ask anything else though, Moody had growled and drawn his wand. "Imperio!" he said, and everybody in the room gasped or shrieked as the colourless curse hit Harry.

His eyes went blank immediately, and he stood up began fishing in his pockets.

"Mad-Eye!" roared Molly, "what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Making Potter give me his wand," replied Moody coolly, "I really can't stand lying brats," he said.

Harry had finally found his wand, it seemed, and he drew it out of his pocket, making a production of it.

Mad-Eye blinked in surprise as he found himself being flipped the bird by Harry.

"You're going to have to try better than that," said Harry, "that was pathetic compared to what Voldemort can do." He rolled his eyes at the customary shudder that went around the table. "_Don't_ underestimate my power," he ended, his voice flat.

"Well, then, perhaps a demonstration of your power would be in order?" McGonagall immediately asked, and everybody at the table stiffened in anticipation.

"Oh no, Professor," said Harry grinning, "I _daren't_ do any magic anymore, lest I get expelled from Hogwarts. You'll just have to wait till term begins!"

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew that she knew that he knew that he could do magic perfectly well inside the house. But calling him out on that would also mean that she would knowingly allow him to break school rules, something she could never live down.

"Very well, then, Mr. Potter, I look forward to your return to Hogwarts then," she finally said, and Harry just grinned in return.

Tonks, however, was interested in other things. "So, is what Sirius told me true? You get fan mail?" she said in interest. "I remember writing to you when I was 11," she admitted with a light blush.

Harry glared at Sirius, who was howling with laughter.

"Oh, I only started receiving them when I entered the Wizarding World," admitted Harry, "it died down after a few months, but the Triwizard Tournament started it all up again."

Sirius crowed with laughter next to him, "Oh you should've seen some of the stuff he got! First time it happened, he couldn't turn his face back to normal for a day!"

"Why?" asked Tonks interestedly, looking at Sirius while reaching for the potatoes, knocking a goblet of Pumpkin Juice all over Mr. Weasley in the process.

Sirius snorted and explained about Tonks' chronic clumsiness, while she blushed and apologised profusely to Arthur. Thankfully, the topic of Harry's fan mail was forgotten in the hustle, so he was saved the trouble of telling them about receiving knickers and photographs in the mail.

Plus, he was pretty sure that Ron would just about explode from jealousy lest he speak on that topic.

Dinner passed by in a haze of conversation and laughter, and the Harry's watch, which Sirius had scrounged up for him after the Second Task, showed that it was ten forty - five.

"Well," said Sirius, standing up, "I better show you my present before you're gone again," he said.

Harry perked up in interest, and he followed Sirius out of the dining room, thanking Mrs. Weasley for the dinner (who sniffed fondly and praised his manners) and the others for coming.

The hallway outside was just as dark and dank as the rest of the house, but it seemed to be getting a bit cleaner as they made their way up the stairs. Finally, they came to the top floor, just below the attic, and Sirius came to a stop, Harry, and Lupin and Ginny and the twins (who'd followed him in tow.

"Behold," said Sirius proudly.

On one side of the corridor was the Master bedroom, which, according to the Old Pureblood customs, Sirius would have to residing in now that he was the Master of the house.

Opposite that, written on the door in bright gold lettering, was "Harry James Potter." He opened the door and walked inside – it was completely bare, and large and airy, with a large window, through which the moonlight was streaming in. In one corner stood his trunk, and Hedwig's empty cage.

He was a bit disappointed, to be honest. He got a room of his own at this dirty, dusty house for his birthday? Wouldn't he be assigned one anyway when he arrived later on?

Sirius was looking at him, but he seemed to be inexplicably nervous.

Remus, however, seemed to latch onto his doubt. "I don't think Harry knows the significance of this, Sirius," he said.

Sirius blanched, he'd been sweating a bit.

Surprisingly, it was Fred who explained.

"It's an old Pureblood custom," he said, "the heir to the house sleeps opposite to the Master bedroom – even at the Burrow, Bill's room is opposite Mum and Dad's. In effect, Sirius is making you the heir to the Blacks, to the Black Empire, and he's also legally claiming you as his successor."

It took a few seconds for the implications to sink in for Harry, and he looked at the two adults for confirmation.

"In other words, he's legally adopting you as his own family –"

Harry turned shining eyes on Sirius, who seemed to be getting increasingly nervous. "I didn't think you'd mind," he said very fast, "I mean, it's like you'll be my family both legally and magically, and my heir, but you'll get to keep your own title – I hope you don't mind, I know it's a bit much, I didn't want to usurp the position of your parents –"

His monologue was abruptly cut off as Harry walked over and nearly strangled him in a hug, and for a while Godfather and Godson rocked together in a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Sirius," said Harry fervently, "you have no idea what this means!" Sadly, the heir-ship wouldn't last, but he didn't know it then.

"I think I do, Harry," said Sirius with a watery smile, "so I take it you're not opposed to the idea?"

"Opposed?" asked Harry incredulously, "I love it! But what'll happen to the Black line?" he asked anxiously.

Sirius gave a short bark of laughter, "Oh it'll die out," he said, "and good riddance to it!"

"However," interjected Remus, "should he marry, you would still remain his heir, only his estate would be divided amongst you and his true eldest son."

"Like I'll get married anyway!" said Sirius sarcastically.

"Stranger things have been known to happen," bantered Lupin.

Sirius ignored him, but asked Harry with a grin, "So, any preferences for decorations?"

"Well, I'll need a large bookshelf," he said with a grin, while the twins pretended to be affronted at the idea of Harry having books with him in his room. "And as for decorations, anything good is fine – actually, I prefer blue. As long as it's not as green as fresh pickled toad, I'm fine with it." he said with a sly laugh.

Fred and George sniggered, while Ginny blushed. "Watch it, Potter, or I might just get wand – happy!"

"And what, Weasley, hit me with a – what was it? – your Bat Plushie hex?"

Ginny turned bright red, and Fred and George's jaws dropped in shock. To write off Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex was sheer suicide!

"When did that happen?" muttered Sirius to them.

"Tonight itself," said George, "apparently, it's going to be one hell of a one–upmanship contest."

"And I trust you gentlemen are thinking of a pool?"

Fred nodded. "And looking for some heavy entertainment as well!"

"Oh trust me when I say that all the signs are right there," said Remus, "They'll be together by next Christmas –"

"Is that official bet, then, Mr. Lupin?"

Meanwhile, Ginny was hissing, "You did _not_ just insult my Bat Bogey hex, Potter!"

"Oh, so that's what it's called, then. Aren't you too little to pull of something like that?" he asked, with a smirk worthy of Malfoy.

"You arrogant PRICK!" screamed Ginny, and her wand was out in a flash, and a purple jet shooting out of it.

"Oh, the signs are all there. Lads, we have ourselves a cataclysm." Said Remus flatly.

Harry ducked, his Seeker reflexes kicking in, before he straightened up, grinning. "Too hot-headed, Weasley. You might want to calm down, you're looking a bit red."

"Oh, I am?" asked Ginny, her eyes narrowed.

"Definitely, _Red_."

In later years, Harry and Ginny would often argue about how he'd gotten into the habit of calling her by that ridiculous nickname. Ginny would say that it was right after she'd nailed him with a Bat Bogey Hex, while Harry would say it simply came of its own accord due to the amount she blushed around him.

Ginny raised her wand again, but faltered when Harry grinned and shook his head. "Sorry Weasley, but I'll have to do a rain check on you – Prison Beckons," he said, edging towards his trunk, and holding up the amulet, which was glowing blue. "Keep Hedwig till I return, won't you?"

At Sirius' nod, he grinned, and then, he was gone in a flash of blue, taking his things with him.

"Git," muttered Ginny, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flushed red.

Sirius and Remus merely caught each other's eyes and shook their heads.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**6th August, 1995**

**Grimmauld Place, London**

**Evening**

"Are we ready to leave, then?" asked Moody. "If our plans to move him has been leaked, they'll be keeping a lookout for tomorrow, so it's best we do it one day early."

"Wait, we must activate the charms around the place first," cautioned Dumbledore, as the other Order Members around the table nodded without really understanding. He waved his wand, muttering for a length of time, before a crackling sound came from the device before him, like a radio being tuned.

Funny, disjointed words came out at first, and the members caught some like "wear jacket", "so proud" and "possible prize?"

Finally, it settled on silence. "There," said Dumbledore, "now we have ears around Harry."

Remus and Sirius glowered at the reminder of Harry's words that Dumbledore had known all along and chosen not to, this device was clear proof. They were under no illusion, though. Most probably, this very device would be used to monitor Grimmauld Place as well.

"Move out, then," said Moody, and the chosen members, Lupin included, trailed after him.

"Well," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "we might as well move this to the Hall while we wait. Molly, perhaps I could indulge in some cookies made by the famous Weasley matriarch?"

Mrs. Weasley was out and baking before he could finish, leaving her husband to follow at a sedate pace and ask if she could save a few extra double chocolate ones for him.

"What are we waiting for?" asked Ginny, as she joined everyone gathered at the living room sometime later.

"We're keeping tabs on Harry in case something goes wrong during the extraction," replied her father.

"Extraction?" cut in Ron, smirking. "You make it sound like it's a warzone!"

"We are at war, if you haven't noticed, young man!" shrieked Molly. "Your best friend is one of the primary targets on our side, and his safety is of paramount importance!"

Ron's ears turned red, and Molly realised only after her rant had ended that her youngest son was no longer friends with the Boy–Who–Lived. It was taking all her willpower not to interfere, and so she finally said, "Can't you just talk to him? I'm sure he'll forgive you!" she said, almost desperately.

Ron, however, didn't like being told what to do; more so when it involved apologizing to someone.

The inevitable confrontation, however, was put off when a voice suddenly crackled out of the device, and everyone leaned forward.

"We're going out," came the voice of Harry's uncle over the device.

"Sorry, uncle, but incest really isn't my thing," came Harry's effortless reply.

There was a split silence for a reply, before Fred and George, and several other Order members burst into laughter. "He was completely asking for that!" said Sirius, chuckling.

"I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!"

The room immediately fell silent.

"Would you rather I write it down, then?" Arthur's eyes widened – Vernon hadn't seemed the most amiable of men when they'd met last summer, and together with his size, he wasn't a man Harry should be pushing about.

"YOU –"

"Don't even start, Vernon," said Harry, and suddenly, his voice was ice cold. "I swear to all that is holy, that I will hex you sideways into hell, and it won't even matter anymore, due to my other offense; where I saved your pathetic son's life, incidentally –"

There was a roar, and then utter silence. "You wouldn't dare," came Vernon's voice, which was now low and squeaky. "Remove that at once!"

"Oh, wouldn't I, Vernon? Look at me, and then think back to all the things you made me suffer through, and ask yourself if I would dare –"

It was like a badly scripted movie, thought Sirius in amusement. Even so, every person in the room was hanging onto the drama in the room.

"Think you're a big man with that stick, Potter?" asked Vernon, his voice filled with loathing. "Take that away, and what do you have?"

"Only 75 percent of the shares in Grunnings, Uncle," said Harry, his voice equally hateful.

There was a pin drop silence on the other end. Sirius, however, fell into paroxysms of laughter.

"Oh, Merlin!" he said, howling with laughter. "No wonder he was so eager to learn of all his Muggle investments...the Goblins simply loved his eagerness!"

Dumbledore merely raised a bushy eyebrow, storing away the fact that Harry had been in contact with goblins. Harry's conversation with his Uncle bothered him, though, but he brushed away the guilt it was causing.

After all, _it was for the Greater Good,_for Harry's own protection.

"W-what?" Vernon sounded like a deflated tyre. "No, you're lying! You're just a homeless orphan, stop spinning your lies!" at the end, his voice had regained his swagger.

Both female Weasleys, as well as McGonagall were staring at the listener in outrage after the comment about Harry's parentage.

"Homeless? Vernon, I have over three properties in Britain alone!" said Harry in a harsh voice.

"But you'd never know that, would you, Vernon?" said Harry spitefully. "You were too busy locking me up in that infernal cupboard to care. Who knows, I might even have shared with you were you nicer to me!"

"How dare you?" blustered Vernon. "We took you in, fed you, clothed you!"

"Don't lie!" said Harry forcefully, and Vernon immediately shut up. Dumbledore was suddenly reminded of another who'd said something similar with the same power ages ago, and he shivered unnoticeably. "You were sent a hefty sum of money every year, and you wasted it on your scummy son instead of me! You fed me only enough to keep me alive! All my clothes are hand me downs! Don't bloody well stand there and pretend, you bastard!" It seemed Harry was building up his steam again. True to form, Mrs. Weasley, however, softly reprimanded him for his language. "I swear, Vernon, you do _not_want to find out how badly I can screw you over! One move out of line, and I swear you will be out of your job, your house, and in jail before you can say 'magic'!"

"Cor Blimey," whistled Mundungus, "that's damn scary, that is!"

Before Mrs. Weasley could berate him for his language, Sirius cut in, "And damn true too, which makes it scarier."

It seemed, on the other end, Vernon had run out of words, so Harry continued to do the talking, "I'll be out of your hair tomorrow, and you won't ever see me again, so we might as well get by as well as possible for these remaining few hours. Otherwise, my lawyers will screw you thrice over and then some more."

Silence.

"Is that clear?"

The silence went unbroken – both in Surrey and London.

"Answer me, or your job will be gone by tomorrow morning, Dursley," said Harry, his voice sounding terribly malicious. "_Is. It. Clear?"_

"Yes, of course," came the reply. It seemed that Mr. Dursley was doing his best to remain polite with his nephew. He couldn't really take the chance that Harry wasn't bluffing, after all, who knew what _freaks_ got up to?

"Yes, _what?_I own your stupid drill company, Dursley!"

It seemed Harry was going to squeeze some fun out of this.

"He zounds good when he takes control, no?" said Fleur, who had just joined the Order three days ago, smiling.

Ginny scowled slightly before recovering, but nobody noticed; most of the men were too busy ogling the smiling Veela.

"Yes, _Mr. Potter, sir_," came the obviously forced reply.

"That's better." Said Harry imperiously, his voice resembling that of a very smug Percy. "Remember, Dursley, one toe out of line and you _will_pay. Now, you were saying?" he asked, his voice cheerful again.

"Your aunt and Dudley and I are going out." there was an ugly pause, "_Sir._ We were shortlisted for the All England Best Kept Suburban Lawn –"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you won't win," said Harry smoothly.

Another ugly pause, and this time, even Mr. Weasley's lips twitched upwards.

"Be that as it may," said Mr. Dursley, and those who had seen him could imagine the veins on his forehead bulging in an effort to control his temper, "you are not to –"

Harry coughed a bit.

"You are not to stay in the room at all times, Sir, just a friendly order – it's unhealthy for young people to remain cooped up in their rooms!"

"You didn't care earlier, don't pretend now just because I'm your new boss, Dursley!" said Harry coldly. "Go ahead; treat me like the freak you think I am!"

"FINE!" yelled Vernon. "YOU ARE NOT TO–"

"DURSLEY!" roared Harry, and everyone jumped in their seat, "IS THAT ANY WAY TO TALK TO YOUR BOSS? DO I LOOK LIKE SOME SORT OF _FREAK_ TO YOU?"

This was too much for everyone, as they all burst out into laughter – it seemed Harry was having the time of his life after dropping that bombshell on his uncle.

"But –"

"OUT!" yelled Harry, who truly was enjoying himself.

"Now listen –"

"OUT OR YOU"RE FIRED, DURSLEY!"

"I'm going to lock the door!"

The sound of a door slamming was heard, but no sound was heard of a turning key – so it seemed that Vernon was too afraid to follow through with his threat.

Sirius, however, revelled in the sound of his Godson's laughter, as he slumped back into his bed, feeling like a normal, rebelling teenager for once – except that he was rebelling and winning.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Privet Drive, Surrey**

Harry quickly stuffed the remainder of his possessions into his trunk, but kept his invisibility cloak handy, just in case.

"Could they really be more obvious?" he muttered to himself, "All England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Contest? I wonder which member came up with _that_."

Back at Headquarters, Sirius winced. It had been his idea of a prank on the Dursleys to send them out in the middle of nowhere for a seemingly inconspicuous contest, so that Harry could be moved easily without anyone knowing.

"Well, Potter, this is it," he told himself. "This bloody household is no longer your home, in fact, it never was...you'll be leaving forever in a few minutes!" The prospect cheered him up immensely, definitely another moment for his vault of Patronus memories.

Dumbledore, too busy digging into Mrs. Weasleys cookie, failed to notice his words, while the others did but failed to realise their significance.

However, several hundred miles away, in a magnificent Manor, the Dark Lord's instruments started humming.

Voldemort smiled, his thin lips curving cruelly up at one end.

"The wards around Potter's home have fallen!" he said, and everyone at the table stiffened. "Gather everyone and go to Surrey immediately," he said in anticipation, _"_Bring me Potter..._and do not fail.__"_

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Take your wand out of my eye, Potter, you'll be in Azkaban if you so much as cast another spell with it again!" said Moody in his usual gruff voice. "Nice reflexes, though, Potter," he added grudgingly. The boy was seriously beginning to impress him.

"You didn't have to bonk me on the nose with the door," grumbled Tonks next to him, who was waving her wand over it to siphon off the blood.

"You can't blame me, can you?" said Harry, "you break into my house and then unlock my door without even a warning! You might as well have been Voldemort for all I knew!"

"Well done, lad!" said Moody again, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared suddenly, making everyone jump, "Constant Vigilance," he repeated, "you never know when they might get us!"

"Pack your stuff, then, Harry," said Remus, smiling at him.

"Oh, it's all done and ready, how are we going?" replied the young wizard.

"Brooms," answered Moody shortly.

"Er, why don't we just use Dobby?" asked Harry, "he was able to transport me without any hassle last time."

"We can't trust a house-elf on a mission like this, boy!" roared Moody, "there are a hundred and one ways this could go wrong! You'd trust something like this with a creature of sub-human intelligence?"

Hermione, in her seat at Headquarters, sniffed loudly.

"But –" began Harry.

"NO BUTS, BOY!" roared Moody, "HOW MANY WARS HAVE YOU FOUGHT IN, POTTER? HOW MANY MISSIONS HAVE YOU LED?"

"All right, all right," said Harry, raising his palms in defeat and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Sub – human intelligence, really; he inwardly rolled his eyes. Lupin and Tonks, however, threw him sympathetic looks. "But you're sending me out defenceless, Sir! I can't even use my wand in case something happens –"

"Nothing will happen, Harry," said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, reassuring voice.

"No, he's right," said Moody, appraising Harry with both his eyes, which unnerved him slightly, "come over here, boy, I have some spare wands, you can keep the one which suits you most."

"But Mad – Eye," protested Kingsley, "that's illegal!"

Moody seemed not to notice, and Harry strode forward to check the wands he was holding out, finally selecting a long, black one with intricate designs on the handle. It felt nowhere near as comfortable as his own trusty phoenix wand, but at the same time, it gave him a heady sense of confidence, and he especially felt that he'd be able to pull off any offensive spells on it with ease. He wondered to whom it had originally belonged.

"Well, then," said Hestia, who'd remained unnoticed till now, "you'd better go get your broom and trunk!"

"I'll help," said Tonks cheerfully, following him up the stairs.

"Can you shrink it?" asked Harry, once they were in his room, which was completely stripped bare of all his possessions.

"No problem, Harry," she said, and then, "Is that a _Firebolt?_"

"The one and the only," said Harry proudly, thinking fondly of the person who'd gifted it to him.

"If you're done drooling over a broom!" yelled Moody from behind them, "We can leave now, the signal is in five minutes!"

They were soon out in the garden, Harry with a Disillusion Charm on him (he'd decided to put the Cloak back in the trunk for that reason), waiting for the signal to appear as he had the plan explained to him.

It was definitely a nifty spell, thought Harry, and one that he'd have to master as soon as possible – the possibilities were endless with it.

Harry kicked off hard from the ground as soon as he saw the starburst of sparks above them and Lupin announced the signal, but then decelerated the moment he was in the air.

By virtue of his seeking skills, he'd noticed another shower of sparks, red this time, in the northeast sky. "PULL BACK," he roared. "IT'S A TRAP, PULL BACK!"

Even if they'd heard him, it was too late. Tonks had turned backwards, whether it was because he'd fallen behind, or if she'd heard him, but suddenly a red light was carving out the darkness of the night and shooting towards her. It hit her straight in the chest and hurled her from her broom into the night sky.

...

_"TONKS!" Harry's voice rang out in the room, and then the device failed completely with a loud crackling sound. No sound came out of it at all._

_"WHAT HAPPENED?" she screamed, "WHY ISN'T IT WORKING? ALBUS, HARRY'S IN DANGER!"_

_Albus looked like he'd aged a hundred years in 10 minutes – "It seems the wards around Privet Drive have failed, Molly, and this device was tied to them...we've lost all means of keeping tabs on Harry now. Be rest assured though, Voldemort will not be attacking tonight – he is still regaining his powers, so Harry is relatively safe-" He was dismayed by the loss of the wards – it threw a considerable wrench in his plans – but instead he readied himself for the shouting that he was going to face right then._

...

"TONKS!" yelled Harry, watching as the bubbly Metamorphmagus was thrown off her broom by the Stunner. For a second, he panicked blindly, before his brain kicked in. Plunging his hands into his robes, he pulled out the wand he'd chosen, and yelled "Arresto Momentum!"

Tonks wobbled for a moment in midair, and then came to rest. Harry flew over to her, pulling her onto his broom in front of him. He was about to revive her though, but then another Death Eater shot a spell at him forcing him to concentrate on duelling instead.

He dodged the stunner and retaliated with a Stunner of his own. His chosen wand seemed to send up a happy feeling through his arm when he used the spell. He didn't like it at all; it was messing with his head, and overconfidence could get him killed in battle.

"Re-enervate!" he yelled, and Tonks stirred groggily in front of him. "Aguamenti!" he shouted again, hoping that he could pull of the sixth–year spell, one of the few he'd skipped since it wouldn't really help him in any way, which was a mistake in hindsight.

He needn't have worried, though, as a jet of water shot out from his wand and hit her full on the face, making her cough and splutter as she sat up, fully awake now.

"We've been attacked," he shouted, making himself heard over the spellfire and yells around him. He reached out around her to take hold of the broom handle. "Hold on tight to the broom, I'm going to do some crazy flying!"

Tonks nodded in grim determination, but felt a tiny pinprick of apprehension; she'd seen Harry fly in the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and she didn't like his definition of crazy flying.

She barely held back a scream as Harry suddenly plummeted downwards, his broom absolutely perpendicular to the earth. Two hooded figures followed, their wands raised, shooting spells at them. She felt fear churn in her stomach as she recognized the green of the Avada Kedavra shoot past centimetres from her, but Harry kept shooting downwards, until, at the last moment, he gave his broom an almighty pull, and pin wheeled in the air, and started flying upwards.

Bending backwards, Harry took aim, and yelled, "Depulso!" One of the Death Eaters, who'd been diving, was hurled forward at an even more accelerated rate, and he met the ground with a sickening crunch, and didn't get up again.

His other spell, however, missed, but it seemed Tonks had mirrored his actions, for another jet of light hit the Death Eater, banishing him into the ground. They rocketed up above the other members, who were all duelling respective opponents, of spellfirethe flashes and bangs reverberating in the night air.

It seemed, however, that the Order members were slowly drifting eastwards, forcing the Death Eaters to follow them straight towards the Rear Guard Mad-Eye had spoken about, he realised.

Tonks, too, yelled, "Fly east!" but her words were cut off by an unearthly scream from behind them. Harry looked back to find Lupin being strangled by a hooded Death Eater, his eyes rolling in their sockets, his mouth open in a howl of pain. The Death Eater's robe slipped a bit, as Lupin finally gave a shudder and fell of his broom, and Harry gave a roar of anger as he noticed the flash of silver.

"WORMTAIL!" he roared in fury, before turning to Tonks, "Catch Remus," he said shortly, and before she could even speak or protest, he'd swung his leg over the broom and jumped clean off.

His eyes watered immediately as he shot down at a prodigious rate, ignoring the yells and screams behind him. Imitating Dai Lellwyn's famous snitch capture of 1976, he tucked his limbs together, but raised his right hand, and roared, the blood pounding through his head, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

He had no time to react further, however, as he shot past Wormtail even before his spell connected, and he raised his wand again, and yelled, "Accio Broomstick!"

The nearest broomstick to him shot forward, unseating its rider, and Wormtail barely had time to register his shock at being airborne without a broomstick before Harry's spell collided with his artificial hand.

A wave of pure dark magic exploded out of the silver appendage as Voldemort's magic was overcome. Everybody in the nearby radius was hurled forward by the shockwave of black power that emerge outwards.

Pettigrew gave a yell that outshadowed Lupin's, as his hand began bleeding like a fountain, and he too fell off his broom, unconscious, before Lucius, who was nearest to him, grabbed him and disapparated.

...

"_My Lord," said Lucius, as he appeared before Voldemort, "they are escaping...we failed."_

_He immediately fell to the ground, writhing, as the Cruciatus Curse seized hold of him. Voldemort watched dispassionately as he bent over to pick up Wormtails wand – the wand which had resurrected him – the wand which would kill Harry Potter tonight._

_He Apparated with barely a whisper of sound, hoping that using another's wand would overcome the strange reaction Potter's wand had to his..._

_Harry Potter would not be surviving this night._

_..._

Harry grabbed onto the broom and watched in dismay as Wormtail was whisked away. Before he had any time to react, though, he was surrounded by a fresh wave of spellfire.

They'd reached the Rear Guard.

"Follow me, Harry!" he heard, and he turned to see Bill Weasley flying alongside him, his ponytail trailing behind him in the wind. He nodded and followed Bill as the pulled ahead, and he looked down at his wand -

Dismay filled him, it seemed he'd put too much power into the last spell, something the wand was not accustomed to. It had split open down the middle, revealing the unicorn hair within. Sparks were running up and down the length of it, and he felt the little jolts it sent up his arm every time another spark appeared.

"ANOTHER WAVE!" shouted someone behind him, and he recognized the voice of Charlie Weasley – wasn't he in Romania? – and he watched in horror as another group of Death Eaters appeared, forcing the Order Members into combat.

A group of eight broke off from the main group and attacked him and Bill; their leader, a hulky man on a broom, who was shooting spells at a prodigious at them as he advanced.

Bill threw a stunner at him, but even as it connected, it seemed to dissipate and vanish, having no effect whatsoever. A raspy laugh rang out, sending shivers down Harry's spine.

"Greyback!" hissed Bill, and Harry started upon hearing the name of Lupin's werewolf sire, and he felt a simultaneous twinge of despair as he thought of Lupin.

He looked down at his wand, which was next to useless, and at the same time, his instinct struck.

In a flash of a second, he instinctively poured some of his magic, which was running like adrenaline through his veins into the wand, making it heat up and spark even more. Without pausing to think, he threw the wand at the advancing Death Eater, who merely laughed, pulled out his holly wand (subconsciously rejoicing in the burst of warmth and power it gave him) and shouted again, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

The yellow jet collided with the wand, and flames exploded outwards, pure emerald green in colour. The night air crackled with electricity, and the burning smell of ozone pervaded the air as everyone paused to watch the awesome display of power, as the oncoming attackers were blasted off their brooms.

Harry sagged as his power seemed to diminish by half in nearly an instant -all that magic exploding out from the wand had been his as the wand pulled on his powers.

The Order members cheered, while the Death Eaters raised their wands again to avenge their fallen brethren, but suddenly, they fell backwards as they felt their arms burning.

"What happened?" asked Bill, his voice panicked, "why are they falling back?"

Harry answered Bill's question when he yelled as his scar suddenly burst open in pain. He barely kept his eyes open as he registered the figure that was now flying alongside him over the dark river...flying without brooms or wings...

Thin skeletal hands holding onto a long, polished wand, black robes flapping in the wind, his mouth curved into a cruel smile, and his red eyes bringing the promise of death..._Lord Voldemort had come to battle._

The Order members panicked and surged forward, but they were too late, Harry had overextended himself, and he and Bill were too far ahead. Bill sought to defend him, but he was pushed roughly backwards with a lazy flick of Voldemort's wand, barely managing to hold onto his broom and wand.

Voldemort raised his wand, aiming at Harry.

Red eyes bore into green, and a lipless smirk formed on the Dark Lord's face

"Avada –" the Dark Lord began the incantation.

Harry, tired and sagging, closed his eyes, unwilling to look into those red eyes in his last moments.

His wand, however, seemed to have other ideas.

Without any instigation, it suddenly spun around in his hand, targeting the Dark Lord, vibrating like mad, like it had a month and a half ago. And then, he opened his eyes to see enormous golden flames erupting out of them.

He had half a second to react, even as he noticed Voldemort's eyes widen in fear and shock, and he seized his chance, reaching into the very dregs of his magic, and uttering the same spell that he had in June, the spell that had saved his life.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The flames exploded outwards, turning a brilliant red, and struck the oncoming green light. For a second, nothing happened, but then a brilliant explosion of red and gold shook the night sky - for the second time that night, a shockwave of power exploded outwards, seeming to contract the very air it passed through, filling the air with a low buzzing. Harry watched in grim satisfaction as Voldemort, who was nearest to the site of the colliding spells, was hit full on the chest by the advancing wall of pure power, sending him rocketing back down to the water, where he went under with an almighty splash.

The wave kept moving outwards, dissipating with every passing moment. Harry, too tired to move, watched entranced, as the explosion made its way over to him, dissipating, dissipating...

Screams and yells rent the night air, even as the Death Eaters scattered in shock after seeing their master fall. But the pleas to move fell on deaf ears as Harry finally lost consciousness and slipped off his broomstick just as the wave passed above him, annihilating his broomstick.

He readily welcomed the darkness which enveloped him, unable to feel even the strong arms which wound around him, preventing the young hero from falling to his death.

x-x-x-x-x

A/N: Edited on 12/10/2012, made minor changes as well as some omissions, while adding something here and there.

Clearly obvious now that Harry _does_ want to return to the Dursleys for some reason, hopefully.


	4. Nightmares and Kisses

**Chapter 4:Nightmares and Kisses**

_He was flying, free and unencumbered, flying through the dark night sky. The world was nothing but a spiderweb of lights beneath him – the cars crawling along the road like tiny little ants. He felt the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach as he dived gracefully – dives had always been his specialty, hadn't they? – zooming downwards towards the black waters._

_He gasped in shock as he caught sight of himself reflected in the river; the skull – like face and the haunting red eyes..._

_The dream changed – he was coming to, covered in mud and grime – and blood, the blood of his mortal enemy, now residing within him. Fear, fear as he'd never known before, coursed through him – could it be? Could the boy really be his downfall? For the first time in years he felt tired out, yearning for some rest..._

_He sat up, knowing pain as he hadn't known it for years and reached out for his chosen wand, only to find it lying splintered by his side._

_Once more the fear rose in him like a tidal wave- he would need to return and start planning at once..._

_The darkness took him again._

_Time passed, the sands of time still flowing along the same path as they had for thousands of years – except for the little eddies here and there – paradoxes. One such paradox lay in Grimmauld Place, not knowing about the uncertain future that awaited him..._

_He was dreaming again – locked inside a cupboard this time. He was crying softly, wishing for somebody to come and take him away from Privet Drive – Privet Drive? Didn't he live at the orphanage? – And cursing his cousin who'd made his life so terrible for him – cousin? It had been Billy Stubbs, he'd shown him!_

_He placed a long, bony hand on the cupboard door, and it opened with the softest of clicks. Instead of the warm light of the Dursley's hallway, however, only the faintest of blue lights entered, mingling with the darkness. He had to go out, out into the corridor which he knew existed there- but he was so afraid – at least no one ever visited in the cupboard, and as much as he hated it, it gave him a curious sense of security..._

_But wasn't he brave enough? Wasn't he a Gryffindor? "I stand by my word, Mr. Potter...Slytherin would have led you to greatness..."_

"_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin –"_

"_Not Slytherin, eh? Better be –"_

_GRYFFINDOR? The house of reckless fools and Muggle – lovers? How dare the Sorting Hat want to put him there? "Gryffindor would suit a child such as you so much better, Mr. Riddle..."_

_But no, he'd read all about the house of snakes, and as a Parseltongue, wasn't it his destiny to belong to that most noble house of Salazar Slytherin?_

_And as he stood before the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets, only the Sorting Hat's bitter laugh came back to him, "Destiny, eh? Fine, then, better be –"_

"_Slytherin! Speak to me, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"_

_He was running, even as he felt the body of the giant snake hit the floor...and then once more, he'd vanquished the shade of Lord Voldemort..._

_But Ginny was dead..."No, Ginny, don't be dead! Wake up, Ginny, please don't be dead!"_

_Ginny was dead...and he'd been powerless to save her..._

_**The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...**_

_He tried to hold on to that thought desperately, but even as it appeared, it faded away into the maelstrom that was his mind...he __**knew **__it was of utmost important, and he had to hold on to it..._

"_Hold on, Harry," spoke the ghost of Cedric Diggory...was it a ghost? It looked so solid..._

_NO! Cedric couldn't be dead, but there he was, his grey eyes looking into nothingness- he felt like getting up and running away, as far as he could..._

"_Run, Harry," she said, her red hair flowing like fire, green eyes boring into his own emerald ones. "As soon as the connection breaks, you must run!"_

"_We are so proud of you, son," said the dark haired man next to her," So proud..." spoke the ghost of James Potter_

_Mum...dad..._

"_So brave, Harry..." hissed the man with two faces, "Just like your parents...they would have been proud!"_

_Proud? His parents? Of him?_

_He'd spent so many nights before the mirror, wondering if his parents would be proud of him...staring hungrily at the family he'd never know. The family with the same green eyes as his, the same knobbly knees..._

_Charlus Potter, grinning down at his godson, reached into his pocket and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, beckoning him forward._

_He started, his hand reaching out, but the treat changed into something entirely different..._

_So tiny and round, with blue mists circling inside the sphere...this, this was his destiny..._

"_Not yet, Harry," spoke the voice, the voice of the lady with the fiery hair. "Wake now, my son, wake up!"_

"Mum..." groaned Harry Potter as he finally opened his eyes, taking in the same fiery red hair that he had a few seconds ago...

"Oh you dear boy!" came the tearful voice, and he found himself looking into a pair of watery brown eyes.

Brown? Weren't his mother's eyes green? To be honest, though, he didn't mind that particular shade of brown...

An overwhelming wave of nausea hit him, driving all coherent thought from his brain – he felt that he'd just been hit over and over in the stomach with a bludger –

It started coming back to him slowly – the attack by Voldemort, his wand exploding, Voldemort being driven back by crimson flames, and then dreams – dreams that were slipping from his memory like sand through a sieve, dreams that he knew he had to remember. Yet all his efforts were futile, as every attempt to remember brought on some more blinding pain in his head.

"Drink this," came another voice, and he blindly swallowed the potion that was thrust into his hands. Almost immediately, his headache cleared, and he was able to function a bit better – his muscles felt weak and uncooperative, though. He blinked, adjusting the modified contact lenses on the eye – with special runes on them to keep them on his eye and moisturised at all times – and the room came into focus.

Mrs. Weasley was standing next to him, holding the empty vial of potions, looking teary. His eyes swept over the room, taking in Sirius, who looked like he hadn't slept in some time, the twins and Ginny, who looked much the same, Tonks, with a bandage around her middle, Bill, who winked, looking as cool and unfettered as ever...

Wait, Tonks?

"What happened to you?" he asked her, concern lacing his tone.

"Death Eater got me with a cutting curse in my stomach," she said nonchalantly, "Barely managed to keep him off and return to HQ with Remus, he was getting bad fast..."

"Remus!" gasped Harry, "Is he alright?"

"He is fine, Harry, only recovering in his room now. I expect he will be awake and fully functional in a few hours." said another voice, and Dumbledore swept into the room, his midnight blue robes not to different from the room around him.

The room? He turned his head a bit, taking in the dark blue walls, and the large bookshelf off in one side, taking up an entire wall.

"Yes, welcome to your room, Harry," said Sirius, though there was no emotion in his tone. "I did, however, think that you would be conscious when you were first brought into it." There was something wrong with his tone –

"What's up with you?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.

"What's up with me? What's up with ME?" asked Sirius, his tone rising sharply. "What is up with YOU, young man! It was the order's job to protect you and bring you safely here – it was your job to simply sit your arse on a broomstick and fly your way over here! Nowhere in your instructions were you told to fight with the Death Eaters and then Lord freaking Voldemort himself!"

"Sirius," said Harry, grinning now, while at the same time fighting down his weakness, "are you trying to scold me?"

"STOP LAUGHING!" yelled Sirius, and Harry was shocked into silence. "You have no idea what it was like, being stuck in this goddamned house while you were out there duelling Voldemort! You have no idea what it's been like, being stuck by your bedside for three days, listening to you relive your worst dreams!"

"Three days?" croaked Harry. "I've been out for three days?" And then another thought struck him, making his insides clench. "What do you mean, listening to me relive my worst dreams?"

"Exactly what you think it means!" said Sirius, his voice still higher than usual. "Why didn't you tell me? You still dream about the Chamber, about Cedric dying! Would it be so hard to trust me for once and let me know?"

"I didn't want to trouble you..." even to his own ears, his excuse sounded weak. He and Sirius had been over this issue many times in the past, until Harry had accepted that he was _not_ a burden, and all the lies that the Dursleys had fed him were just that – lies.

"Don't even bring that up again!" yelled Sirius, his grey eyes unusually stormy, "We've been through that, you and I! I'm sorry I left you for 12 years, Harry, but is this your way of punishment, not trusting me with your problems? Is this retribution for my crimes, then?"

"No, Sirius, you don't understand –"

"No, I don't, and I don't think I ever will!" shot back his godfather in a venomous tone, before he threw one last dirty look at Harry and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Well, that went bloody well!" muttered Harry, feeling extremely irritated. Mrs. Weasley tutted next to him.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds; even Dumbledore seemed content to remain silent, before Harry broke it.

"Will you be all right?" he asked Tonks, trying to be pleasant instead of giving way to his irritation.

"Don't worry about me," she said, grinning a bit. "My old mate Charlie made me his top priority as soon as he saw I was wounded – bloke would probably break off one of his Dragon's Scales for me if I told him it'd help with the pain..." Behind her, Bill rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's you and Remus that had us running scared," she said.

"But he will recover, right?"

"He most certainly will, Potter," said another gruff voice, and he turned to see Mad – Eye walk into the room. "That was some damn good fighting you did out there Potter – kept your head cool and fought your way out of a scrape!"

"He shouldn't have had to fight at all!" protested Mrs. Weasley shrilly. Harry felt his irritation rise, along with his sense of rebelliousness – he was no child that he couldn't fight!

"You wouldn't say that if you'd been there," interjected Bill, grinning. "You should've seen him go at it – took out an entire group of Death Eaters and then Voldemort to boot. I don't know how you did that, Potter, but I'm damn thrilled that you're on our side of the war –"

"I didn't do it," said Harry automatically. Everyone in the room raised their eyebrows, even the youngsters, who looked suitably awed on hearing about his prowess – he groaned inwardly, the last thing he needed was some more legends about him!

"Well, unless someone Polyjuiced and replaced you that night, you definitely did it all, kid!" chuckled Bill. Several other Order Members tittered, and Dedalus Diggle looked at him with awe.

"No, I didn't!" protested Harry again. Dammit, was the world out to anger him tonight? "My wand acted of its own accord – it targeted Voldemort, all I did was utter the Disarming hex!"

There was silence in the room, but it seemed that no one was inclined to believe him.

"Well," spoke Dumbledore finally. Harry was disgusted to see how everyone – some other adults had also joined them in the room, he could see McGonagall and Mr. Weasley amongst them – immediately swung their heads towards him to hang on to every word he uttered like the sheep they were. "That is an entirely acceptable statement, Mr. Potter, especially due to the relationship between your and Tom's wand –"

Most of the Order Members looked lost at the name Tom, but decided not to ask Dumbledore about it. On the other hand, Ginny turned pale and shot him the most unreadable look he'd ever seen on her face.

What interested him the most, however, was Dumbledore – the man seemed determined not to look him in the eye. Harry had no idea what that was all about, but he had a feeling that it wasn't because Dumbledore was guilty about all he'd put Harry through.

"Never mind that then –"said Tonks cheerfully, "that was still some seriously good work against the Death Eaters, though!"

Harry shut up at that statement, feeling it would be churlish to disagree. He was lucky, though, that he hadn't really faced the worst of Voldemort's forces – the Order had engaged them first.

"You should have seen him," said Tonks proudly, "flew like crazy, he did – and took out two Death Eaters with a _Banishing _hex!" she concluded, grinning.

"It was nothing," said Harry, feeling his face heat up.

"Nothing!" exclaimed Tonks incredulously, "you hit a moving target from a broom, and from what I hear, you threw a bloody wand and managed to hit it with a Blasting Curse!"

Before Harry could protest again, Dumbledore spoke up. "You used a Blasting Curse?" he asked mildly.

Harry rolled his eyes, even as some of the Order members looked apprehensive. Blasting curses were technically in the grey area of combat spells, though for the life of him, Harry couldn't see why.

"Yes, sir," he answered stiffly, already feeling a headache coming on. "The Maxima version, twice."

Dumbledore frowned. "And what drove you to do that?"

"Indeed, cub?" spoke up another voice, and he was hit with a wave of relief as he saw Remus standing at the doorway, grinning at him. "_What _drove you to do that?"

Next to him, arms crossed, looking resolutely down at the floor, was Sirius.

"Oh, I found this one moping in the kitchen," he explained, pointing at Sirius, "seemed mighty upset about something – "

"Oh I'm mighty upset alright!" said Sirius mutinously, still avoiding Harry's gaze studiously. He might have found it curious when it was Dumbledore, but his Godfather avoiding his eyes was ridiculous, he thought, mildly exasperated.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, ignoring the silence that was threatening to descend again, "you're healed already!"

"Side effect of being a werewolf, cub – you heal faster," said his ex – Professor with another grin.

Harry was disgusted to see some of the Order members shifting slightly at the mention of Remus' lycanthropy, but it came as no surprise when Snape's (who was lurking in one corner of the room) lip curled upwards in contempt.

At that moment, Charlie Weasley burst into the room, looking quite harried. The Weasleys snickered, as he wheezed, out of breath, "Mr. Lupin! You're supposed to be in full bedrest, I've been searching all over for you!"

"It's Remus, Charlie, and I feel completely fine, thank you," said Lupin, his eyes twinkling. "Frankly, the rest did me some good – I feel better than ever!"

"Rest?" asked Tonks incredulously, "Good Lord man, you were choking up blood and dying when I carried you in, you call recuperation from that _rest?_"

"And you!" said Charlie, rounding on Tonks, "You were supposed to take your pain relief Potion half an hour ago! Your stomach's never going to heal if you keep missing your doses – you skipped the one last night too!"

"Oh lighten up, _Charles_!" said Tonks, "I'm fine, I really am!"

"No you're bloody well not!" exclaimed Charlie, his ears slowly turning the trademark Weasley red. "_You_ were spilling your guts out on the floor, and now you're fine? And don't call me Charles, Dora! You're coming with me _now_ to take your Potions!"

"Don't call me Dora, git!" said Tonks, even as she followed Charlie out the door. "And I don't need the bleeding medicine!"

"I work with dragons, woman, your words don't scare me!" retaliated Charlie, "and admit it, your stomach hurts!"

Their bantering soon faded from their ears, as attention turned back to Harry again.

"What?" he asked, feeling defensive. "What are you staring at?"

There was another distraction at that moment – all the heads in the room turned as a young woman sashayed into the room, here silvery blonde hair flowing down her back, her skin almost glowing in the dimmed lighting. She seemed to emit an aura of serenity, which calmed Harry down immensely – he felt a bit guilty, knowing that all of this anger was simply stemming from his teenage hormones.

"'Arry," she said, "it is good to zee you awake!" She reached his bed and swooped down, kissing him on each cheek. "We were all worried – leetle Gabrielle, she was so frightened to 'ear that you were 'urt again – but she was in awe when she heard of your defeat of Voldemort!"

Harry had a distinct memory of Fleur's little sister - he flashed Ginny, who had been not unlike her a few years back - a grin, who poked her tongue out at him for lack of a better reply. Bill frowned.

"So," he asked, "is she here too, then?"

"Oh no, you silly boy!" she said, with a tinkering laugh, sending shivers down everyone's spine. "Maman and Papa were here to pledge their support to Dumbly-dorr, and she came along for the day – I think she left you a leetle card as well!"

Now that he noticed, there was a large amount of candy and cards next to his bed – Fleur reached out and pulled out one from underneath a box of Ice Mice.

Immediately, a haunting voice filled the room, singing possibly the most beautiful tune Harry had heard, next to phoenix song. It was in a language he didn't recognize – French, most obviously, but all the same, it had a touching quality to it.

It died down after a few seconds, leaving the room emptier than he had before, letting Harry read the words written in them.

"That was a beautiful card, Fleur," he said, "it seems your sister's voice is as beautiful as she is – be sure to pass on my thanks!"

"You leetle charmer," giggled Fleur, making several of the men in the room go cross – eyed. "I weel expect you to write a letter to 'er in zanks yourself, non? She will be thrilled," she added breathlessly, "she 'as not stopped talking about you ever zince the Second Task!"

"Remind you of anybody?" asked Fred innocently, and the next second he was hopping on his left foot, clutching the other one.

"Ginny!" reprimanded Mrs. Weasley, "there was no reason to stamp on your brothers foot!"

Fleur merely wrinkled her nose at Ginny's behaviour, who flared up on noticing this.

Harry intervened first, though. "And how have you been since the Tournament, Fleur?"

"Eet 'as been 'ard," said Fleur, her face turning grave. "I still miss Cedric," Harry turned solemn as well. "He became a good friend in a short time, in fact, it was his Papa who recommended me for ze job at Gringotts –"

"So you're working there now?" asked Harry in interest.

"Indeed,"she said with a gracious smile, "I weel tell you all about it later, 'Arry! He needs to rest now, does he not?" she asked, suddenly looking around at the others. "Per'aps he would be best left alone, now? 'As he not been through enough already?"

Harry felt gratefulness well up in him. Even Mrs. Weasley, who'd seemed rather frosty till now, seemed to warm up towards Fleur at once.

"She's correct! All of you, out, now! The boy needs to rest!"

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley looked haughtily at the others as they shuffled out of the room, until only the Weasleys and Sirius and Remus remained. Dumbledore seemed to want to stay for a bit, but he relented under the gazes of the two women.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley, Fleur," he said, only now realising how tired he was feeling. Not tired, per se – strangely enough, his body seemed to be worn out, but his magic seemed to be recharging, growing steadily back to its full potential. It seemed that using too much of magic had drained him physically – which was something which he could not replenish easily. He made a mental note to read up on it -

"You're a good boy, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley softly, "you saved my two eldest sons lives!"

Harry was about to protest, but Bill cut him to it. "Like it or not, you did, Harry – we'd have been toast if you weren't there to protect us from Voldemort."

"And you saved my seester, 'Arry," said Fleur, her voice suddenly a bit thick, "I weel forever be in your debt for that!"

Swooping down, she kissed his cheeks again before straightening and leaving with a promise to talk to him again, later. Harry noticed Bill's eyes following her all the way out, but he chose not to comment on it.

"Right, you," said Mrs. Weasley, back in commander mode. "Drink your potions, and off to bed!"

"Wait, Molly," said Sirius, "I need to talk to him for a bit before he sleeps."

"It's late, Sirius," replied Mrs. Weasley. "Harry's tired himself out, and he needs to rest –"

"He can stay awake for ten more minutes, Molly," replied Sirius coldly.

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to argue, but Arthur grasped her shoulder, calming her down, and leading her out of the room. She complied, albeit reluctantly, but not before telling the others to clear out and reminding Harry to drink his potions. Bill followed his parents out of the room, but turned at the doorway, waiting for his other three siblings.

"Like hell we're leaving," said Fred.

"We've been sitting next to him for three days as well –"said George.

"And we'll be damned if we don't find out why he never told his supposed _best friends_ about his nightmares!"

"Nightmares?" queried Remus, sounding confused.

"Oh, yes, nightmares," agreed Sirius. "Not wake up in cold sweat ones – full thrash around in bed, screaming in fear nightmares!"

"And he told nobody," asked Remus, raising his eyebrows.

"Nope, and I want to find out why, and exactly how often he has these nightmares!" replied his Godfather.

Harry mentally made a note to put up silencing charms around his room, he had no wish to let people know exactly how frequent his nightmares were becoming after the Third Task. His irritation, however irrational it was, though, came back in full force.

"And don't even think about putting up silencing charms around your room, Potter," threatened Ginny.

"W -What? How?" spluttered Harry, momentarily forgetting himself. How had she known?

Ginny smirked, but then her face turned solemn. "I asked Bill to do that for me after my first year," she explained. "Mum found out and went ballistic – and I promise we'll do the same."

Everyone in the room nodded.

"It's just nightmares!" protested Harry, they were making a mountain out of a molehill. "I've been having them forever! It's not a big deal, for Merlin's sake!"

Sirius froze. "What do you mean, had them forever?"

Harry smacked his head inwardly. He thought that he'd curbed his foot-in-mouth syndrome...apparently, he was still prone to attacks –

"Ever since I was little," he said, and the others winced, "I've had dreams of Voldemort killing mum..."

Sirius completely exploded. "AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME? YOU'VE BEEN SEEING YOUR MOTHER DIE SINCE MERLIN KNOWS WHEN, AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT FIT TO TELL ME?"

"WELL FORGIVE ME! THEY'RE JUST DREAMS, SIRIUS – I'VE LEARNT NOT TO DWELL ON THEM! SO WHAT, IF I GET NIGHTMARES? I'VE DEALT WITH WORSE!"

"But you shouldn't have had to," said Remus, the sorrow evident in his voice, giving even Harry a pause.

"It's just...it's not right, Harry, for a fifteen year old to think that nightmares like these are fine, Harry," said Sirius in a pained voice, "it speaks a lot about what you've really had to suffer through in life, something that no teenager should suffer through..."

"Well, I can deal with it!" snapped Harry, feeling extremely tired and drained now.

"No, you can't!" snapped Ginny in return, "you have to speak about it to someone!"

"Oh, and I suppose you would know all about it, coddled and loved all your life!" he knew he was being mean and irrational, but he couldn't help it – the words were out before he could compute them.

"You bastard!" hissed Ginny, pulling out her wand, "You have a blasted Dark Lord in your head for a year, and then you ask me about knowing about nightmares again!"

Harry shut up completely. He knew that he'd just completely made a jackass of himself – but the teenage part of him refused to back down.

"I'm going to sleep," he announced after a split second of fuming, reaching out fluidly and taking the Potions on his nightstand. He swallowed them, and then said, "Feel free to hex me if you want, and I'll make sure to come crying to your room if I have a nightmare! Oh, I forgot, last time I did that, I was given a week in my cupboard for being a freak nancy boy!"

That shut everyone up in the room as he quietly muttered the phrase to deactivate his lenses and rolled over on his side, ignoring the other people in the room, hoping they'd go away. He knew he was being childish, but he was entitled to childish behaviour once in a while.

But it was not to be.

Small hands grasped his shoulders and jerked him violently – he sat up again, simmering, to find himself looking into Ginny's blazing eyes.

"You idiot!" she hissed at him, "I don't care if you're the bloody boy-who-lived or freakin' Merlin himself, but you just can't brush us off like that! The Dursleys are your past, Harry, and everyone here cares about you! So suck it up instead of being an angsty cry baby – nobody here can, or will lock you inside a bloody cupboard if you own up to having nightmares!"

"That's bloody brilliant, that is!" retaliated Harry, "now that we've established that, can I go to sleep? Or would you like to know more about my brilliant nightmares? Would you like to psychoanalyze them to find out why I have them and what they mean for me?"

"And here I was, thinking you were dumb, Potter," smirked Ginny, "yes, we want to talk about your nightmares!"

Harry cast a look around at the others in the room, but the males just raised their hands and looked innocent.

"No," he said shortly.

"No?" queried Ginny, raising her wand.

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Going to curse me while I'm defenceless and on my sickbed, Weasley?"

"I wouldn't be averse to it, Potter," she replied, but he knew that she wouldn't go through with it.

"For god's sakes, Harry, how hard can it be to talk about them?" asked Remus.

"It's not some sort of weakness to talk about them, Harry!" said Fred, and his twin nodded.

The more they pushed, however, the more Harry dug in his heels. Sirius recognized that look – Lily's eyes would go absolutely flinty when she was being stubborn, just like Harry right then, while James would just cross his arms and keep an expressionless face.

Just like Harry right then.

"No, I won't," he said, he was telling no one about his nightmares...and how much they scared him. Ginny dying, Sirius being kissed, Cedric dying, his parents coming back to life and renouncing him...no one would know about them, "and you can't make me!"

"Fine!" said Ginny abruptly, shocking the others into silence.

"Fine?" queried Sirius a bit uncertainly, after all, Ginny'd been calling the shots till then.

"Yes, fine!" huffed Ginny. "Leave him alone! He goes on and on about how he's just _Harry,_ but he really enjoys being the Boy-Who-Lived, saviour of women, lone warrior, don't you, Harry?"

Harry found himself too dumbstruck to answer – _where_ did that come out of, and _how_ did she get that idea?

"Isn't it, Harry? Save little Ginny Weasley, your best friend's little sister..._leetle Gabrielle Delacour,"_ she added a little more venom than was necessary here, "Get past dragons and acromantulae – all alone and friendless and forsaken – the ultimate hero! Admit it, you don't _want_ any of us to care about you, you're so caught up in being the fearsome, but lone Boy-Who-Lived! Heroes don't depend on others, do they, _Harry _Potter!_?_" She put unneeded emphasis on his name, and he knew she was referring to Harry Potter – the boy-who-lived – instead of just Harry Potter.

"Well, that's fine by us," she concluded, stuffing her wand back in her pocket and walking towards the door, "come on guys!" The others, a bit taken aback by her outburst and sudden change in tack, followed her without complaint, leaving a sputtering, dumbfounded Harry Potter behind.

Outside the door, Ginny turned and smirked, "He'll be coming to us by tomorrow morning, ready to speak," she said smugly.

"I don't know about the adults, Freddie –"

"But you're seriously impressed by the way our Gin-Gin subtly manipulated little Harry?"

"Indeed, brother, and I know you are too –"

"Indeed I am, brother mine –"

"Brilliant work, Ginny!"

"Wait a second," asked Sirius, confused. "What?"

Remus tutted, then spoke gently, as if explaining something to a child, "She manipulated Harry, by hitting him where he hurts the most, Sirius. He hates being the Boy-Who-Lived, and she just turned it around on him and made it look like he didn't – and he was not telling us about the nightmares because he _wanted _to remain the heroic Boy-Who-Lived," he turned to the Weasleys, "don't mind him, he's always been a bit slow."

There was a look of dawning awe on Sirius' face as he turned to Ginny, "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said nerviously.

Ginny just laughed, her face the picture of innocence.

"You know, Padfoot," said Lupin, reverting back to their Marauder nicknames now that they were alone, "if those two," he indicated Harry's door and then the direction Ginny had gone after bidding them good night and grinning fondly, "don't end up married by the time they're twenty, I'll bite off my own bits when I transform into a werewolf."

Sirius just nodded fervently.

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Harry Potter was not having a good night. For one, he wasn't being able to sleep – it appeared that his recharging magic seemed hellbent on keeping him awake.

Not that he was complaining, though – it seemed that the worst part of his recovery was over, now he was feeling like he was soaked in a warm bath, as the magic rejuvenated itself, and made its way all over his body. He could literally feel his headache dissipating, but at the same time, the excess energy running through him made him feel wide awake.

What was really bothering him, though, was a girl.

Not in the classical teenage lovestruck sense, though.

_Not a girl_, he snorted mentally,_ a red haired devil spawn!_

He turned over for the umpteenth amount of time, burying his face in the pillow and lying flat on his stomach.

After ten minutes of furious thinking, he rolled over again, and looked up at his ceiling, not really noticing the glowing stars and planets that were painted onto it.

After ten more minutes, he huffed, threw off his covers, and stood up. He steadied himself for a second - standing up after lying down for three days was certainly disorienting. He picked up his wand from where it was lying on the dresser, dimly registering the warmth that it sent up his arm.

He decided that he needed to talk to Ollivander about his wand the next time he visited Diagon Alley, but decided not to think about it for now.

He made his way out into the hallway, which looked quite eerie in the moonlight that was bathing it. Portraits of previous Blacks (non-magical ones, thankfully) looked down their noses at him disdainfully.

Only then did he realise that he didn't know where his destination was. Well, it wasn't in this floor, only Sirius and he slept here.

He descended the steps quietly, and came to another corridor of rooms. He quietly muttered the Homenum Revelio spell, something that he had taken a long time to master last year, thanks to the pure finesse it required. The first few rooms were empty, but the other rooms showed at least all the other rooms were occupied by one person. He'd expected some people to be sharing, but apparently that wasn't necessary.

He decided to start from the end of the hallway, and his efforts were rewarded immediately.

He cleared his throat angrily, but she slept on, unaware.

He strode forward, and paused for a second as he took in her sleeping form. In the dim light, she looked like a sleeping angel, with her hair splayed out over the pillow, and her mouth slightly open, the sound of her breathing deep and even.

_How betraying looks cam be,_ he thought and snorted.

He reached out, savouring his revenge for a second, before grasping her shoulders and shaking her roughly.

"Wha -?" she said as she awoke, blinking the grogginess out of her eyes. He watched as her eyes focused, and then landed on him, "_Harry?_"

"I _do not_ like being the boy-who-lived!" he protested hotly, without any explanation.

She looked confused for a second, before smiling smugly. "Oh really?" she spoke in a drawl worthy of Malfoy, "_do _tell..."

"You have no idea what it's like, Ginny!" he said, wishing nothing more than to wipe that grin off her face. "You don't know what it's like, dreaming about the Chamber again and again, only that I'm too late to save you! Dreaming about Sirius getting kissed, seeing Cedric die over and over again because of my stupidity...thinking my parents..." His voice petered off, it was painful to think of that – that his parents would say that he was "no son of theirs" after all the hardships he'd gone through life. But, a tiny part of him admitted, even saying those few sentences had made him feel a bit better...

Ginny was no longer smiling, "Your parents what, Harry?" she opened her mouth again to speak, but then closed it again, looking like she'd come to a decision. "Wait here a second, I'll get some hot chocolate, and then we'll see where you stand..."

Harry sighed as she got up and slipped on her slippers, before walking out of the room. What had he just go himself into?

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Harry stirred in the morning, shifting a bit groggily. A pleasant flowery smell crept up his nose, and he pulled his pullow closer, burying his face in it...

Sometime later, Ginny woke up, stretching languorously and yawning through a haze of sleep. She felt extremely well rested; this was easily one of the best stretches of sleep she'd experienced, though she didn't understand why. Her sleep had been fitful and uneasy at best in this dark, dusty house...

She smiled for a bit, before she registered the arm draped around her. Her eyes shot open in alarm. Wide awake, she registered the arm around her, the body she was resting on, and the face which was buried in her hair.

She turned around, very, very slowly...

And found her face buried in the crook of a neck.

It was a nice feeling, she decided, having her head resting there. And then, slowly, as last night came back to her, she realised that her head was resting on the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry. Harry Potter. Whom she had got over, due to which she was _not_ currently experiencing a churning vortex in her stomach.

Shit. Shit. _Shit._ They must have fallen asleep talking last night – she'd been talking to him about the Chamber last night, and he'd taken her into his lap and hugged her, and she hadn't moved from their after that.

And now she was currently lying in his arms on the floor.

11 year old Ginny would have promptly melted into a puddle of glee and then exploded in exhilaration, but currently Ginny didn't feel anything other than a rising sense of panic – her mother would kill them if she found them in such a compromising position.

Of course, she did feel gleeful, but she dismissed those feelings forcefully.

"Harry!" she hissed, trying to jerk him awake.

He mumbled something incoherent, and then pulled her closer, burying his face further into her hair, her body crushing into her.

Gathering her courage, she reached up a bit uncomfortably, wiggling free one of her hands, and slapped Harry smartly across the cheek.

Harry's eyes shot open, and before she could even think of anything to say, she found Harry straddling her, his hands wrapped around his neck.

Harry started in shock, "Ginny?"

"Yes, you idiot," she choked out.

He let go of her and climbed off, his face cycling through different expressions before settling on understanding, "We fell asleep, didn't we?" He blushed a bit, realising the compromising position they'd been in, and then his face showed only horror, "D – did anyone see us?"

"No, you prat, or else we'd be dead!" replied Ginny, disgruntled. "And there was no need to choke me! How did you react that fast anyway?"

"I think it's my magic," said Harry, "it's completely up and ready to go...I feel great!" he said, grinning and stretching.

Ginny shook her head instead of thinking about how her head missed the warm support of Harry's chest or his neck, and then said, "Nobody knows of this, Potter – the twins would never let me live this down, and my brothers would all kill you!"

Harry nodded fervently, before his face grew serious. "Weasley?" he asked, but his tone was light.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Thanks."

She understood. They'd talked a lot last night, and she'd soothed several of his fears, while he assuaged some of her own. They shared a bond together, now, that they did with no one else, and looking at him, she felt a glow inside of her.

"You too, Potter. Now leave, because I need to take a bath –"

"Just don't sing in the shower, Red...I hate to tell you, but your singing card had nothing on Gabrielle's –"

He was out of the door, laughing, before she went for her wand – both because of the jab about her singing and that annoying nickname he'd been using at random intervals last night, despite her protests.

"Git!" she muttered to herself, but she found herself smiling as she walked into the shower.

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"Well?" asked Sirius as she walked into breakfast, "may I ask you why I found my godson curled up next to you early today morning?"

She blushed, "It wasn't what it looked like," she protested.

"Oh please," said Sirius, "the two of you curled up together, chocolate stains on the floor – been there, done that!" he said, grinning.

"What's that?" asked Fred, who'd just come down to breakfast with his twin. "Stains on the floor? Wasn't me!"

"Or me," said George.

"Oh no," said Sirius nonchalantly, "just interrogating your sister about her amorous activities with members of the opposite sex?"

"Oh, please," said George, "she's never even been kissed in her life, Fred and I nicked her diary and read it while we were coming back home from Hogwarts last year –"

"She does pine a lot over Ha-"

"YOU READ MY DIARY?"

"Yes," said Fred calmly, in fact, his lack of fear was unnerving.

Ginny let out an indistinguishable scream and picked up her wand, and roared, "Mucus ad Chiroptera!"

Giving a dramatic squeak, her wand turned into a haddock.

"_WHERE_ IS MY WAND, ALFRED?"

Harry walked into the kitchen, freshly showered, to find Sirius rolling with laughter in his chair. Before he could react, though, a hand plunged into his pocket and he suddenly found Ginny Weasley in front of him, holding his wand and looking like she could breathe fire – despite himself, he cowered.

Ginny grinned vindictively as she felt warmth shoot up her arm, and raising Harry's wand, she shouted, "Mucus ad Chiroptera Gigantes!"

The effect of her modified Bat – Bogey hex was alarming - Fred was rocketed back against the wall by the force of the spell. Everyone came bursting into the room as Fred screamed terribly, as huge five feet bogies crawled out of his nose and flapped and scratched at his face.

"GINNY!" screamed Mrs. Weasley, recognizing the curse, "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Fred's nose was bleeding terribly as well, the blood pouring out, as George knelt next to him, trying to staunch the flow.

"HE READ MY DIARY!" screamed back Ginny, but she seemed unnerved by the effect of her spell as well.

"Finite Incantatem," said Bill, who had just come into the room. The bats vanished, leaving behind a traumatised Fred, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Mrs. Weasley immediately jumped at him, while berating Ginny at the top of her voice, promising extreme punishment.

"FIRST HARRY GETS AN UNFAIR TRIAL, AND THEN HE NEARLY GETS KILLED, AND NOW THIS! YOU WAIT, GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, I'LL HAVE YOU GROUNDED TILL THE END OF TIME!"

Her voice thankfully died down as she slammed the door shut behind her.

"Ginevra?" asked Harry, amused, but he shut up sharply when she turned on him, his wand in her hand.

"_Don't call-" _she began and Harry winced.

Thankfully, Charlie came to his rescue. "Phew, Ginny," he said, "that was some hex you used – when did your spells get so powerful?"

"I don't know," said Ginny, suddenly mystified, even as her father walked over, looking bemused.

"That was a very wrong thing you did, Pumpkin," he chastised her, and Harry grinned, filing away that information for later embarrassment.

"But Daddy," protested Ginny, immediately reverting to her watery-eyed, trembling lip form, "they were reading my diary!"

The effect was immediate, Arthur's face grew stern, and he said grimly, "Is that so? I'll be having a talk with them, don't you worry, Princess!" and he immediately headed over to the room where Molly was treating the twins.

Harry chuckled at the nickname which was completely unlike GInny, but shut up immediately when she rounded on him again.

"So how did you get that powerful, Ginny?" he asked quickly to divert her attention.

It worked, her brow creased as she thought, "I don't know," she said, "I mean, I was always good with that spell," Sirius snorted at the understatement, "but it was never that good with Grandma Anne's wand."

"Wait, what?" asked Harry. "You use another person's wand?"

Ginny blushed, and he understood – her wand was a hand me down like most things her family possessed. He plowed on regardless –

"Ginny!" he protested, "you can't just use another person's wand, that's terrible! The wand choses the wizard – witch," he amended hastily, "for all you know, that wand might have been holding you back all these years!"

"Come off it," she scoffed, "Mum and Dad couldn't afford to buy me a new wand for my first year, and they overlooked it later because my wand worked fine – there's nothing wrong with it! I've known that I'd be using that wand ever since I found it in the attic when I was six and hexed Percy with it!"

"You wouldn't know the difference till now, would you, then?" countered Harry, still adamant.

Her face displayed doubt for the first time. "Does it really work like that?" she asked, "my wand could be holding me back?"

"It can," agreed Harry, "I had to use Ron's wand once in first year when Fred and George nicked mine as a prank – charmed a ribbon stuck to it – and I could barely light it up, even though I had been able to do the Lumos spell for months!"

"That can happen," said Bill, who's come over some seconds back, "we had to study a bit of wand lore for Curse Breaking, and it specifically states that one wizard's wand would never work as well for another unless it was one in combat – Blimey, I'd completely forgotten that you and Ron used hand–me–down wands!"

Ginny blushed, but Ron, who'd just come down in his nightclothes and started piling his plate with food, piped up defensively, "What about my wand?"

"I just remembered you're using Charlie's old wand," answered the eldest Weasley brother.

"No I'm not," said Ron, his ears turning red, "I got a new one after my second year!"

"And I was left with a ramshackle one," grumbled Ginny.

"And I'll be taking mine back now," said Harry, leaning forward smartly and plucking it out of her hand.

"Dammit, your wand felt good," mumbled Ginny, and then turned beet red when she realised what she'd said.

"Thanks, but I've been told that before," said Harry with a grin, as Sirius and Bill roared with laughter.

Ginny seized the opportunity to snipe at him and get the spotlight off herself, "By whom? The last imaginary girlfriend you snogged in a broom closet?"

"Ooh, that had to hurt!" said Sirius.

Harry's eyes narrowed. Catching Ginny's eye, he raised his eyebrow, and slowly, very deliberately, reached over at the table, and pushed the butter dish away from where she was standing, staring her down all the time.

"That's not an apt reply," said Bill, who hadn't been present at the Burrow during the Butter Dish Incident –

"Oh it is," said Harry, "you'll notice that Red over there now resembles a squashed tomato –"

Ginny immediately fought down her blush, noticing Bill and Sirius' gaze on her. "Whatever, Potter, I know about your worst nightmares now –"

"Like I don't know yours, Weasley –"

But Sirius interrupted, "What? You talked to her about your nightmares?"

"Yes, just as I predicted," said Ginny.

"What do you mean, just as you predicted?" asked Harry, stung.

"What do you mean, yes? He's _my_ godson, and he went to you instead of me!" asked Sirius.

"Because she made me look like some complete prat!" replied Harry.

"Oh, she doesn't need to make you look like one! I'm your bloody godfather, and you ditch me for the redhead!"

"I didn't _ditch_ you for her, Sirius, it's not like we're dating, for Merlin's sake, because that would be wrong!"

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Harry!"

"Look, you wanted me to talk about my nightmares and I did it! Ginny helped, but I am _not_ going through it again!"

"Well, at least you did that," muttered his Godfather in defeat, "but next time, come to me, all right?"

"Oh Godric's Golden Griffin, you make it sound like a competition – but fine, I will – as long as you make better hot chocolate than Ginny, though!"

"Oi!" said Ginny, stung, "I resent that! I make perfectly good hot chocolate!"

"I think I'll disagree," said Mrs. Weasley, as she came over, her lips pursed. "You can't cook to save your life – don't give me that look, young woman, I am not in a charitable mood this morning! I have a good mind to ground you on your birthday, Ginevra! Your brother's nose is still wrapped up in a bandage!"

"Good!" shot back Ginny, "maybe he'll keep it out of where it doesn't belong, then!"

"You will not talk back to me, young –"

Molly's rant was thankfully cut off when Dumbledore walked into the room, his face grave. The room fell silent at once.

"I come with bad news, I am afraid," he said, "it seems the time and venue of your Trial has been changed, Harry – you will be tried in Courtroom 10 before the entire Wizengamot, Harry at 9am on the Twelfth."

There were instant cries of outrage and protest, and Harry felt his stomach churn. He had tried not to think too much about the trial, even though he'd read up on proper protocol for Wizarding Court and similar cases to his – but being tried before the governing body was another matter altogether.

"Unfortunately," spoke Dumbledore, and everyone promptly fell silent again, "this means that you will be detained at the Ministry for 24 hours before the Trial begins, Harry."

"What?" asked Harry, shocked, an emotion that was mirrored on everyone's faces, "I read up on Wizarding Laws, that's mentioned nowhere in the book!"

"I admire the research you have done about your problem, Harry, but this law was passed recently, one of the additions Cornelius made to the laws of our country –"

"How recently?" asked Harry, gritting his teeth together.

"Three weeks ago," replied Dumbledore apologetically.

"Does anybody else get the idea, that this entire incident, from Harry being attacked by Dementors, to this new law which'll keep Harry wandless and defenceless in the Ministry, is a bit too convenient?" asked Lupin mildly, his voice low but dangerous.

There were murmurs of assent around the room, but Dumbledore raised his hand, silencing everyone again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ginny roll her eyes, and felt a rush of kinship with her at that instant.

"Yes, I admit it looks bleak for Harry, and it is most likely a trap," the old wizard said, "but we must do our best to protect him, due to which we must convene and make suitable plans at once!"

Harry snorted, but Dumbledore seemed not to notice. Paying the headmaster no attention as well, he instead turned subtly towards Sirius and Remus, and glared intensely at them for a second, before blinking and then raising his eyebrows and looking upwards.

The message was clear – meet him upstairs. The Weasley siblings, who had, however, grown up using these signals amongst themselves, saw it as well.

The room was starting to fill up with incoming wizards and witches of the Order, when Harry excused himself.

"I quite understand, Harry," nodded Dumbledore sagely, "perhaps it would be best for some of your friends to keep you company as well for some time? I assure you, child, I'll find a way to make it safe for you!"

Some of the people in the room smiled encouragingly at Harry at Dumbledore's words, but he rolled his eyes, "Safe, Sir? You told me Hogwarts was safe, Sir, but that was before I was attacked by a Death Eater with Voldemort on the back of his head, Voldemort and his pet Basilisk, a hundred Dementors, a Dragon, a bunch of ten feet tall spider, a murderous tree, a –"

"I understand you are upset," said Dumbledore, all trace of geniality vanishing from his voice. "But that does not warrant this behaviour, Harry!" The ancient wizard was frustrated – he'd hoped that he had some of his old bond left with Harry when the youngster readily agreed to return the Dursleys at his word, but he was mistaken, it seemed. "We are going to do our best to protect you, and I assure you, we are some of the most competent wizards in the country!"

_Who let me be attacked by a couple of Dementors and then duel Voldemort unaided_, thought Harry, but he bit down another comment, and stalked out of the door instead.

Dumbledore sighed, "He is a good child, but he is going through a tough phase –" he said by way of explanation.

"Perhaps it would be best if I talked to him for a bit, Headmaster," asked Sirius, unusually meekly, but Dumbledore didn't notice – he was used to people being meek before him.

"That would be best, Sirius, I'm afraid you wouldn't be of much help today in any case, and the best way you could help would be to soothe Harry's fear instead –"

"I think I'll help, Albus," said Remus, "he's tough with his Godfather sometimes, but he generally talks to me –"

"I'm going as well," volunteered Bill, "that's my little brother up there who's stewing, and it's not like I can help you anyway – I haven't been in the Ministry of Magic since I left for Egypt, I think..."

"You are such a zentle brother, Beel," said Fleur, smiling up at her English tutor, "'Arry is lucky indeed!"

Charlie rolled his eyes at the usually suave Bill's light blush, and then piped up, "I'm going up to talk to him as well!"

"Oh, my delightful children!" said Molly, tearfully, "such considerate boys!"

Ron and Ginny scowled, but Dumbledore nodded his head in agreement. "Very well, gentlemen." It was quite heartening to see the number of people who cared for Harry – when the time came for the Final Battle, and Harry's sacrifice, they would help Harry along his true path, he was confident!

So he didn't protest as the eldest Weasley brothers and the littlest Weasley left along with Sirius and Remus.

Of course, he didn't know that Harry needed no support from them right then, other than their brainpower, perhaps.

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Ginny followed the others into the room to find her twin brothers already there with Harry. She scowled, even as Fred cowered, but Bill interjected firmly, "Let it go for now, Bug – Harry's need is greater than yours to hex your brothers."

Ginny nodded, and Fred silently handed her back her wand, which he fished out from his pocket.

"Sorry for the nose," she mumbled, "but you deserved it."

"I did," said Fred.

"I will still hex you two later," she threatened, gripping her wand. Maybe Harry was correct, she felt no warmth from her wand when she touched it...

She turned towards Harry, but was surprised to see him holding up a large piece of paper silently.

Written on it in large letters were, "_SILENCING CHARMS. DUMBLEDORE CHARMED THE ROOM."_ She swelled up in anger, how dare the senile coot do that?

Bill complied at once, putting up the strongest spells he knew, and making them discreet as well, so Dumbledore couldn't register them. Harry lowered the paper after he'd finished, smiling in a satisfied manner.

Bill, however, had a question, "Considering Dumbledore _is_ eavesdropping on you, how will you explain the fact that the instruments picked up no speech at all?"

Harry had a reply ready. "Simple, really," he said, "we were gathered in the Twins' room instead, because Fred had a bad reaction to Ginny's spell and couldn't come up to my room, so we kept him company downstairs."

Charlie whistled, "You're sneaky, Potter – I'd heard about your little tete-a-tete with Dumbledore, and all your little revelations, but I believe it now –"

Harry, however, went straight to the point. "Can I trust you guys?" he asked concisely.

"I think you can," said Bill, and Charlie agreed. "Firstly, I was quite pissed with Dumbledore after Ginny's first year, secondly, _you_ saved her instead of him that year, thirdly, your reasoning makes sense, fourthly, you saved our arses as well," he said, pointing to his younger brother. "So you can count me in with whatever the hell you're doing –"

"Brilliant," said Harry, grinning.

Sirius shivered a bit.

"What's wrong?" asked George, concerned.

"I recognize that smile," said Sirius, "James smiled the same way before he planned the greatest knicker raid in Hogwarts history – we nearly had our bollocks castrated after that –"

"Well, that's good," said Harry, still smiling, "because I think I have a plan..."

This time, Remus groaned.

"What now?" asked Charlie.

"The last time Harry really had a plan, he ended up having to outfly a Hungarian Horntail!"

Charlie sniggered, but Harry grinned.

"Wrong," he said, "the last time I had a plan, I ended up duelling Lord Voldemort in midair and then passing out for three days –"

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny, raising his eyebrows.

"Come on, Red," he said, ignoring her huff at the nickname, "didn't you find yourself wondering, after that brilliant show, why I agreed to return to the Dursleys' so easily, just as dear old Dumbledore told me?"

Ginny was intrigued, but Sirius said, "That, and why you never used Dobby to simply get yourself out of the battle instead of going crazy with your wand! That was out contingency plan!"

"Well, that part's easy – firstly, it's not really smart to antagonize the entire Order by rejecting their plan altogether," said Harry calmly, "especially Mad – Eye Moody, who's firstly reporting directly to Dumbledore, secondly, a valuable ally, and thirdly, frankly freaks me out!"

There was a smattering of laughter, and then Harry said, "And it's quite obvious why I never summoned Dobby – we were in midair when we were ambushed, and calling Dobby would effectively kill him. He'd apparate into midair, and no matter how many times he apparates after that, he'll be falling downwards, which isn't really good. The law of Gravity is one of the most important laws of Apparation – _do not_ apparate in midair! Moreover, we were flying over a highway, and then over water – there was no place or time to land and summon him."

"Believe me," he said, "it can sound stupid now, but it was different out there, in real battle," and Bill and Charlie nodded.

"But forget that," he said, grinning. "The reason I went back so happily, anyone?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object.

Bill's mouth fell open in shock.

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It was dusk by the time the Order meeting ended, and Mr. Weasley came up to tell them that Molly had some snacks ready.

"I'll be taking you to the Ministry tomorrow," he said, "don't be afraid, Harry," he added kindly, "it'll all be ok..."

"You don't have to, Mr. Weasley," protested Harry, "it's Ginny's birthday, someone else will take me!"

"Honestly, Harry," said Ginny rolling his eyes, "it's not like he's running away with you, he _will_ be coming back," she said, chuckling.

'She's right, you know," said Mr. Weasley, chuckling. 'We leave at seven. Come along now, Molly's cooking!"

Finally, it was only Sirius and Harry in the room.

"You'll be ok, right, Harry?" asked Sirius a bit nervously.

"Course I will," said Harry, deliberately cupping the item now resting against his chest. "Though, if I am incarcerated, bring my wand out unscathed and give it to Ginny, alright – she's literally a blast with it!"

Sirius grinned in agreement, "That she is, Harry, that she is."

"What was all of that about, anyway?"

Interestingly, after Sirius had finished retelling the tale, Harry was an interesting shade of red.

"What?" asked Sirius, immediately knowing that something was off.

Ginny was coming up the stairs when to call Harry and Sirius, when she heard Harry's voice drift through the open door, "Well, it's not like she's never been kissed, technically..."

"Well, it's not like she's never been kissed, technically..." said Harry, uneasily. "Er, I was Ginny's first kiss, but she doesn't know that –"

Ginny froze.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius, perplexed.

"Well, it was in the Chamber, you see..." explained Harry haltingly. "Er, I was pouring my magic into her to try and awake her, but it wasn't working..."

"So you kissed her?" asked Sirius incredulously, his face threatening to split into two pieces, he was grinning so widely.

"I was twelve, all right? I'd read all those fairy tales when I was younger about Sleeping Beauty and her prince, and I completely lost my head down in the Chamber – everything seemed like a good idea!"

Sirius was roaring with laughter.

"Don't laugh," said Harry, "it was terrible, like kissing a corpse! She was completely cold and lifeless – like dead fish!"

"Oh boy!" wheezed Sirius, "you definitely shouldn't tell her then!"

"Are you crazy? Fred and George would take the mickey out of me!"

"No, no," explained Sirius, "for God's sakes, Harry, first kisses and stuff matter to girls, you can't tell her she doesn't even remember it!"

"Oh come off it!" scoffed Harry, "_Ginny?_ She's not like that – it's Ginny, y'know, she's like – she's like one of the blokes! She wouldn't care!"

"Oh, I wouldn't?" the icy voice seemed to freeze Harry where he stood.

He turned slowly, and found himself facing a _very_ angry Ginny Weasley. "_Gin?_" he asked weakly.

"Mum says you should come down before the food gets cold," she said, and her ice was absolutely emotionless, "But from _one of the blokes_, Potter, I think you wouldn't like it – it's quite disgusting, _like dead fish,_ I'd say – Nice to know I was like that for you, Potter, makes me feel so bloody special, doesn't it?"

"Gin –" he began again, too stunned to speak.

"SAVE IT!" she yelled, and he was shocked to hear her voice crack at the end. She spun on her heels, and then stalked out of the room, slamming the door so hard behind her that the window panes rattled.

"You're screwed," said Sirius concisely.

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Harry tossed in bed, fully awake, for the second time in a row.

He felt disgusted with himself – he reckoned Ginny had heard the entire conversation, and he could only imagine how she was feeling now. He'd tried to talk with her, too, but she'd avoided him the entire day, reducing him to a state of depression as well, which Mrs. Weasley had put down to nerves.

"You'll be alright, Harry," she said tearfully, tipping more and more food onto his plate.

But no, he realised, he wouldn't be alright. In a surprisingly short span of time, he'd built up a dynamic with Ginny that he couldn't hope to accomplish with anyone else, and the prospect of hear ignoring him for a long time ahead seemed extremely undesirable.

Of course, Sirius, self proclaimed love guru, had come up with a perfect solution for it – something that would apparently guarantee forgiveness from her.

To be honest, the Marauder side of him, which he'd nicknamed Prongslet, was willing to carry it out. Harry Potter, on the other hand, was terrified of it.

After a half an hour more of tossing and turning...

_To hell with it,_ thought Harry, _might as well grow a pair! _Screw Sirius' plan, he'd apologize his own way!

Ten minutes later, he was standing outside Ginny's door with a mug of hot chocolate. Surprisingly, she hadn't charmed the door shut, but she was awake this time.

"I'm not interested, Harry," she said, the moment he stepped into the room.

"I have hot chocolate," he said.

Silence.

"With marshmallows."

Silence.

And then, "Fine."

He set it down on the table where she was sitting, her back turned to him, ramrod straight.

And suddenly he found himself unable to speak at all, his planned words all going out of the window.

Ten minutes of silence, and the hot chocolate was finished (he was sure she'd finished it faster just to get rid of him faster as well!). Nothing.

Suddenly Sirius' plan was all he had.

He pulled out his wand, his heart beating a tattoo in his throat, where it seemed to have lodged.

Just as Ginny stood up to face him, he muttered "Obscuro!" making a blindfold appear before her eyes.

She swore vehemently, but Harry said, "Wait for a second, Ginny, trust me –"

"Oh, that's fine, Potter. Snogged any more _dead fishes_ or _corpses _lately? Nice to know I was so good for you!"

"Ginny, you were dying! I was desperate to save you! Why are you so mad, anyway, it's not like you remember it!"

"Well, maybe that's exactly it! Your first kiss was with _one of your blokes,_ Potter, and I don't even bloody well remember it, as pathetic as I am! It was better when you were ignoring me, at least I wasn't reduced to being a bloody male in your eyes!"

He bit his tongue, recognizing his gaffe.

Instead, he muttered, "Orchideous," making flowers pop up around the room.

Ginny must have smelt it, because she said, "Flower Power is not going to help you, Potter! I can't believe you so smoothly left that out of the story when you were telling it later!"

"I was trying not to hurt your feelings!" he said. _Oh, he was about to hit her with a lot more than just Flower Power..._

"Oh, and look how that ended up!" she said, her hands on her hips right now.

He ignored her, praying fervently to God, and also simultaneously casting a breath freshening charm on his mouth.

He stepped forward, trying not to pass out. Funny, how this was harder than facing Lord Voldemort...

He took both of her hands in his own, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, trying not to pass out, or to betray his panic.

Ginny stiffened as Harry's breath tickled her ear. 'I'm sorry, Red..." he said, his voice sounding the slightest bit husky, "I was way out of line," he said, before reaching out and tapping her blindfold with his wand, making it a bit looser.

"You were," she said, defiantly.

"It must suck, not remembering your first kiss," he continued, now whispering in her other ear. "I'm sorry, I should've known you'd want to know about it..."

"Well," Ginny joked, inexplicably nervous all of the sudden, "I'd bet ten galleons with Bill that Harry Potter would be my first kiss...but he'll probably say that getting kissed while I was unconscious in a desperate attempt to bring me back to life won't count..." she rambled, trying not to shiver as his breath caressed her ear, making her shiver slightly.

"Well," said Harry, suddenly going on autopilot Prongslet mode, "we're best friends, right, Gin?"

The nickname sounded so different when he said it like that. "Yes," she said, a bit hestitatingly.

Harry smiled at the sheer lunacy of what he was about to do. "Well, I know an apology won't be enough," he admitted, and Ginny nodded, wishing he'd take the blindfold off alread and stop acting so strangely. "So the least I can do is make you a proper memory for your first kiss...make it count for Bill, right?"

Before she could fully compute what he was saying, he had pocketed his wand, and instead reached out with his hand to remove the blindfold. She opened her eyes, and they fluttered shut almost immediately when she suddenly felt a pair of lips on hers.

_Harry's lips._

It was gentle, and everything she could ask for in a first kiss, he seemed almost hestitant, like she was fragile and would break in his arms – when had she ended up in his arms?

She peeked for the tiniest second and found that the entire room was decked in flowers, which in turn were bathed beautifully in moonlight – the bastard sure knew how to apologise.

Suddenly, it clicked in her mind that this was a one–off, he'd still want to consider her his best friend after this, since this was his way of apologising, giving her a real memory of a first kiss.

Well, what was she doing, getting kissed like she was a china doll?

Harry felt his pulse skyrocket, as Ginny placed her hands on his shoulder and deepened the kiss, angling her head to offer him better access. His head spun as their tongues met, and he tasted the chocolate she'd drunk only minutes ago inside his own mouth.

**After several long moments – or it might have been half an hour – or possibly several sunlit days – they broke apart.**She kept her head on his shoulder, and he let her, as she almost melted into his frame.

"I know it wasn't my place, Ginny, but I'm sorry, and I hope you'll forgive me –" said Harry quietly, speaking at length.

"You're right, it wasn't your place," and Harry's stomach dropped out in defeat.

"But you're forgiven, Harry."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "So we're friends, then?" He'd be worshipping Sirius tomorrow...

"No..." she felt an inexplicable pang in her heart, only she knew very well why her heart was panging in the first place, "we're best friends."

She could feel him smile into his hair, and she smiled bitterly, thinking of the mixed emotions that brought on.

"Ginny?"

"Hmmm, Harry?" she asked, not looking up, still content to be in his arms, where she'd woken up only that morning.

"Happy Birthday."

Silence for five seconds, and then, "You sure know all about proper gifts, Potter."

"I try."

"Git."

"I'm sorry, did you just say Harry-Potter-you're-a-fantastic-kisser-and-you-made-me-weak-at-the-knees so I can reassure you that you were so much better than a dead fish as well?"

"_Git."_

"No, really! No dead fishiness at all – it was quite chocolaty, actually...Ow, Ginny, you just _kneed _me!_"_

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

**A/N: Honestly, I'm too tired to write a lengthy author's note – I only uploaded this faster because I was ecstatic that Chelsea's won the UEFA Champions league...GO BLUES! :D Think of it as a celebration from my end! And to any Bayern fans who're reading this, your team played brilliantly as well, it just wasn't their night, though...:[ **

**Before you start protesting that one does not simply kiss like that and remain friends, please, people, I've seen friends or best friends kiss for weirder reasons, enjoy it, and yet remain best friends. Life is weird like that. But fear not, one day, they shall end up together...mostly when Harry ejects his cranium for his arse.**

**A bit of Ginny power, for all the Ginny lovers like me, right? :D Cheers! :D**

**The next chapter, as you can see, needs some planning, and will take some time.**

**Until then, **

**Formerly IamDRCaPottermaniac,**

**Now...just read my name, for heaven's sake. Scroll up, Hahahaha, exercise your pudgy fingers, getting fat while surfing the net!**

**Oh, and the Dobby thing, I admit it was a bit cobbled together, because I really only had a good explanation for returning to the Dursleys, oh yeah xD Thanks to Bobmin for some good advice regarding that, though!**

**Oh, and the law about Apparating is 100% true.**

**Now, REVIEW!**

**Hey, that rhymes! :D**

**I need to sleep.**

**Goodnight.**

**No, that doesn't rhyme.**


	5. Into the Ministry

~The coldest blood runs through my veins  
You know my name~

**Chapter 5: Into the Ministry**

**Mid-February, 1994**

**Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher's Office, Hogwarts**

"Focus, Harry!" said Remus, as the young wizard in question sank to his knees once again, trying to ward off the creature before him. With a flick of the werewolf's wand, the Boggart was pushed back into his trunk, leaving Harry to stand up shakily and gather himself.

"You must try harder if you want to succeed, Harry," he admonished gently. "I was thrilled at your success earlier, but all of that seems to have vanished – you're back to square one –"

"I'm trying, alright!" growled Harry, his voice almost rising to a shout. "You try listening to your parents die over and over within your head while trying to cast a spell, and tell me how it feels!"

The truth was, he'd already mastered the Patronus Charm. But for some inexplicable reason, he found himself unwilling to tell Remus that fact.

Well, maybe it wasn't so inexplicable – no one was supposed to know about the recent rise in his powers, so he had to tone his spellwork down a bit (was he overdoing it?). That much was obvious. However, there was the fact that he liked Remus Lupin, and the man _could_ be seen as the last living link to his parents (discounting the traitor Sirius Black), and a tiny part of him thought that once he'd mastered that spell, Lupin would no longer be obligated to spend time with him. And then there were his parents himself.

He knew it was wrong – completely, utterly wrong, but he couldn't help it. As much as he loathed the Dementors, as much as they scared him, he couldn't help but feel strangely grateful towards them. Every time he would be in close proximity to the Dementors, he'd hear the voices of his parents, and that was something he was strangely unwilling to give up. If it weren't for the Dementors, he'd never even hear the voice of his father!

He knew it wasn't right, but it was like a minor addiction. Even listening to his parents dying, he could feel close to him – and sometimes, he'd pick up snippets of their conversation before Voldemort had attacked as well. It was like being on drugs – he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't resist the rush that went with it.

Lupin paled slightly, but then his voice grew gentler. "I cannot say that I can understand how you feel, Harry, but I can only sympathize. However, you must get over this weakness – find the peace within you, Harry, and only then will you be able to overcome your fear and face the Dementors –"

"It is not a weakness!" shot back Harry. "I am not weak!"

"I never said you were –" began Lupin, but he stopped short when Harry pulled himself up to full height, raised his wand, and shouted "Expecto Patronum!"

A brilliantly silver animal burst out of his wand, and came to stand before Lupin. It was blurred around the edges, as if it was an apparition from a dream – almost on its way to becoming solid – but it was enough to make out who it was.

He felt his eyes prickle as moisture gathered in the corner. "Prongs..." he croaked reverently. "How?" he asked Harry, turning towards him as the Patronus vanished, leaving behind only traces of silver.

The teenager in question sighed. "Sit down, Professor. This is going to be a long talk."

Needless to say, he was stunned and proud at the end of it. It was almost too much to wrap his head around – 11 year olds finding their way around puzzles designed for senior, experienced wizards (though something struck him as funny there), a 12 year old slaying a Basilisk, finding a mythical chamber – but his inner Marauder wondered at the intricacy of the entire story – it was almost like something out of a fantasy novel.

He chuckled mildly as he walked Harry to the door of his office – that would be the day, a series of books about Harry – Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, he imagined, or maybe Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets?

One thing he knew, they'd make an interesting read all right.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts as Harry turned at the doorway to bid him Goodnight. At that moment, he couldn't put into words how he felt about the youngster standing before him.

"Well," he began, "it doesn't look like you'll be needing the Patronus lessons any longer, Harry (the emerald-eyed boy before him stiffened imperceptibly), but I urge you to look me up any time you want – maybe I could teach you some other...tricks of the trade?" he ended with a small smile.

The smile on Harry's face made his heart soar – he shuddered mildly for half a second when he thought about how he'd let Harry down all these years, even when he'd known that he was living with Lily's muggle sister, who had no love for Wizardkind at all. Of course he'd searched for Harry, but only for a short while, and then he'd given up hope and sunk into depression again when his search yielded no results. Perhaps now he'd have a shot at making it right, a shot at building a relationship that should have been built more than a decade again.

Even so, he couldn't push away the niggling thought that it was not his place, but Sirius', to build that special bond with Harry, but he pushed that idea away. Sirius was gone, having betrayed their best friends, and Harry was much much better off without him.

And so, they bid each other goodbye and Harry began to make his way back to the dorms, Lupin called after him.

"Oh, and Harry?" Harry turned his head back to glance at his Professor, "I know you won't really need it know, but you might want to take my words to heart – find peace within yourself, and you'll find life much easier for you. Take it from one who knows," Lupin finished with a pensive look.

And that left Harry with something to think about.

**June 1994**

**The Black Lake, Hogwarts**

"_Avada Kedavra!" screamed the high, cold voice, and James Potter fell, like a marionette whose strings had been cut._

"No, Dad, no," Harry whispered, as his Patronus died before his eyes. The boggart Lupin had scrounged up for their Patronus lessons had been nothing in comparison to a true Dementor, as he was finding out now, especially when there were nearly a hundred of them swarming around him. He had been discovered, and all of his efforts, going back in time, was going to be in vain. He watched in horror, as the Dementors advanced on his past self as well, unencumbered...was he not his own saviour, then?

And the wretched beasts were now advancing rapidly on him, having pinpointed his location near the shore of the Lake.

One of the Dementors lifted its hoods, and he barely managed to swallow his scream at the sight. The Harry of the past had already fainted, and fefore he knew it, the Dementor swooped at him, mouth agape, pulling in a rattling breath – almost as if it were tasting the food before a feast.

His head exploded, and suddenly, he was _watching_ his worst memory before his eyes.

_Lily Potter frantically barricaded the door to her son's room, tears pouring down her eyes._

"_My wand!" she muttered hysterically,"WHERE'S MY WAND?" It was almost as if she were unwilling to believe that she was without that little stick, her only defence against the Murderer in the room below her – her SON'S only defence._

The scene shifted, and suddenly he was looking into his mother's startlingly green eyes, fully appreciating for the first time why people were so enamoured with his own. All he could feel at that moment was despair, sheer despair that he was going to die. He was going to die cold, and unhappy, watching his parents die as well...

"Harry..." she whispered, strangely calm in the face of certain death, and he felt chills go down his back. As he looked into her tear streaked face and puffy red eyes, he realised that even in her moment of despair, his mother was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid his eyes on. "Be brave, be strong..."

"Mama loves you, Harry," and he felt his heart clench. "Da-da loves you..."

_Mama loves you...Dada loves you..._

Even as he saw the scene play out before him, and as the Dementors advanced upon him, those words stayed with him, striking a chord in the very depths of his heart.

And strangely enough, as he landed on all fours on the icy bank of the lake, he felt warmth running through him, instead of the customary cold - it was his magic, rebelling against his death, against his defeat by these abominations of nature. His life was too precious, _he_ was entirely too precious to have his mother's sacrifice go to waste.

His mother, who'd loved him enough to die for him. And at that moment, young Harry Potter found peace within himself. He had been loved, loved fiercely, and at that moment, he was no longer afraid of the creatures before him, or of reliving his mother dying.

_Mama loves you..._he rose to his feet, bolstered by the magical energy rushing within him. But he didn't let it go out in a huge burst, as words floated back to him, "Find the peace within, Harry..."

And so, instead of making it explode outwards like he'd done down in the Chamber, he embraced it, embraced his magic, embraced who he was, in that instant.

He stood tall, every bit of desperation gone. He was his magic, at that moment, but at that moment, he was so much more. He was Sirius, barely hanging on to his life, he was the trees around the lake, fighting against the sudden cold the Dementors had brought, he was the water a few yards ahead of him, struggling to break free of the cloak of ice and swish and swirl freely again, as was his nature. He was _himself, _two Harry Potters, across two times, there, but not there, at the same time!

It was beyond anything that he had experienced – it was almost as if he was made out of pure magic, and at that moment, he _was _the energy around him.

He raised his wand, fear gone, only love in his heart...

_Da-da loves you..._

_Dad..._he thought, as he pulled his arm back, raising it over his head, he brought his arm down, swinging it forward speedily, only that phrase in his mind, in his heart, _"Mama loves you...Da-da loves you..."_

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

And the rest was history.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Early November 1994**

**The Room of Requirements, Hogwarts**

"Find peace within," Harry muttered to himself mutinously, "Yeah, Right!"

He'd been trying for ages to try and recreate the effects he'd felt around the Black Lake, but to no avail. His magic was firmly set at its customary power level (though that was no mean amount itself), but he _needed_ that boost to take on a dragon and live!

"Problems, Pup?" came the voice of Sirius behind him.

He sighed, "I need a way to increase my magical power, fast –"

"And you're going to do that, _how?"_

"Well, it's like this..."

Sirius was laughing at the end of the story, even though he was sufficiently awed by his godson's power.

"Harry, what you just described is known as _Magicus Extremos_," he said, chuckling, "and the only way to reach that is through hours of solid meditation, or through the appropriate pentacle, _and_ it takes a powerful wizard to enter that state!"

"But it _can_ be done, right?" Harry asked, almost desperately.

"Yes, it can," and his hopes soared, "if you're planning on sitting cross legged before a dragon and then meditating anytime soon," Sirius ended, before howling with laughter at his own wit.

Harry scowled, his hopes vanishing in a poof..."So I'm basically screwed?"

"You're looking at it wrong," said Sirius, more seriously. "Power is not your only weapon, and this is a mistake which ever young wizard makes..._Think,_ Harry, for the greatest advantage you have over the dragon is brainpower!"

"Think? That's all you have for me?" asked Harry, disgusted.

"You never know what you can come up with," offered Sirius sagely.

Harry huffed. "I'm going for a walk," he announced, gathering his bag as a door appeared on the wall of the Room. Some days, it seemed, Sirius' maturity seemed to desert him completely.

"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Sirius, grinning and being infuriatingly cheerful. "The fresh air might just give you the brainwave needed!"

Harry muttered something vile under his breath as he left, leaving Sirius laughing loudly behind him.

It was always good to annoy his little godson, thought Sirius affectionately, it was good to show him who the Alpha Marauder was, sometimes. But what would he do now that Harry was gone, he thought, his mood souring a bit.

Almost as if in reply, the room expanded to enormous proportions, and a broomstick appeared before him.

He stood there for a moment, stymied, before his face split into a wide grin.

"Room!" he announced loudly, "You are the greatest thing since sliced bread!"

As he kicked off from the ground, he entertained himself for a moment by imagining Harry taking on the dragon with a broom...maybe he'd tickle its nostrils until it died from a cardiac arrest due to extreme seizures caused by sneezes of draconic proportions!

Sanity was obviously not one of the strong points of the Black Family.

Even as he wished for a slight breeze across his face as he flew, a small smile made its way across his face.

_A dragon against a boy and his broom,_ he thought, still grinning at his terrible joke._ That'd be that day._

**August 2****nd****, 1995**

**Number 4, Privet Drive**

Harry sat alone in his bedroom, pondering over the task that lay before him. He picked the book he had been reading up from the bed, flipped through it, and then put it back down again.

"_The True Power of a Wizard – The Magicus Extremos Theory", _written in bold blue letters, faced up towards him.

He couldn't deny that he was excited at the prospect of activiating the Extreme Mode again. Apparently, the experience wouldn't be anything like the first time he'd achieved that state (whether it be through meditation, pentacles, or accidents like his) – but it would be enriching all the same. He had been fascinated with the idea ever since Sirius had told him what it was, but he never had the time to act on it.

But now, he was all set – the Silencing Charms which Dobby had set around the door of his room was still active, he was sure that the Dursley's wouldn't mind if he didn't show up for almost a day – there was no way his endeavour would be unsuccessful, of course.

On paper, that is. It was all theory, all conjecture. According to the book, the experience would certainly not be as profound as before, and he wouldn't be able to extend his magical consciousness due to him connecting fully with his magic for the very first time. But circumstances were different in his case, and he hoped that his idea, however wild, would bear fruit.

The Magical Extremos had two modes, which Harry had named External and Internal mode, in his head. The external mode, which gave the wizard (or witch) huge boosts of power for short periods of time, was generally achieved with the help of magically infused Runes. The internal mode, which he was trying to achieve, was generally through meditation, and as the book put it, through discovery of self. After some time, however, most wizards were able to decrease the mediation period until they could enter this state at will (for short periods of time, however, and at the expense of huge amounts of energy). It was basically used for last ditch efforts, because the wizard could apparently pass out from exhaustion should the energy used up be too much for him to handle.

He hesitated a bit, though. Was he supposed to slip into a trance, just like that? Most of his schemes were pulled off with aplomb, and dare he say, all the subtlety of a Filibuster, so this was something out of the ordinary.

So, feeling the slightest bit awkward, he set himself down on the floor, his back against the bed, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Some time later, he opened them again, huffing with frustration, which only grew when he checked his watch and saw that only fifteen minutes had passed.

Fifteen minutes? It felt like an hour, for Merlin's sake!

Discouraged, he tried again.

And again.

And again, for good measure.

Finally, dusk was setting in, and Harry was simmering with resentment at his repeated failure. He'd read the relevant parts of the book all over again, but there was no hint anywhere as to how he was supposed to do the meditation itself.

Resisting the urge to kick something forcefully, he stood up, stretching his entire body. Still feeling angry and frustrated, he paced around the room, trying to walk of his restlessness. But try as he might, he couldn't wear off his energy, and it finally hit him why. His out-of-control hormones seemed to be at work again, throwing his magic off kilter again. He sighed, not knowing if this was normal among teenagers, since he never had a parent to ask, but he assumed (rather hoped) that this was the norm, because it would also explain why adult wizards were so much more powerful than children. Their magic simply grew when their body and mind matured as well. He would later wonder if hormones did indeed have any effect on magical growth as well – the research had the potential to be highly interesting.

There! Underneath his skin, his magic was simmering again, trying to break out of his self – imposed bonds.

And slowly, a wild idea struck him, as he remembered the circumstances under which he'd last activated the Extremos condition, that night down at the Black Lake.

Sitting down on the floor again, he closed his eyes, and concentrated on the tingling just below his skin, like little jolts of light electricity all over his body, creating pleasant little tingles here and there. And then he pushed on his magic, willing it to explode. He poured in all his anger and resentment, all his woes, all his resentment, and all the pain and suffering he'd gone through, until the entire room was several degrees hotter.

He gave another push, this time focussing on how terrible he felt locked away in this magical cage, and a lamp in his room shattered. Wincing but ignoring it, he then proceeded to the next step, trying to reign the magic in, as he had done before, _finding the peace_, as Remus had adviced.

Which proved much harder than expected, and was soon proved to be the wrong course of action in this case.

Once unleashed, the energy was like a wild animal, unwilling to be forced back into imprisonment. It coiled and swirled around Harry, levitating random objects, or throwing them about here and there. He pulled and pulled, but it did nothing but aggravate his magic further.

Taking another deep breath, he concentrated with all his might, and then, on sheer instinct, he decided to go with the flow. Instead of pulling the magic back in, he shut his eyes, and let go.

Instantenously, he felt the power shoot through him, different than before, encompassing him, filling him up like warm chocolate, rich in its power and intensity.

Breathing evenly now, he revelled in the power that resided in him, fully appreciating for the first time what was his magical core. It was a swirling sphere of pure green energy, within him, around him – all over him. He squeezed his eyelids shut further, until there was only blackness all around him, and his magical core the sole light within. Except...

_Bingo!_

There, in the darkness, metres away from him, was another tiny sphere, detached from him, but exactly same in its colour, and erratic yet fluid movements.

Puberty had caused a lot of problems for Harry lately, the greatest being the instability in his magical powers. But at that moment, he was highly grateful to his infernal hormones for allowing him to manipulate his magic in ways older, more experienced wizards would struggle to, so as to enter the Magicus Extremos state, and to find what he had been looking for.

His lips curved into the tiniest of grins.

Quickly memorising the approximate location of the energy, he opened his eyes, and then attempted to stand.

Only to collapse heavily on his backside.

Harry gasped as he felt the immense weakness in his body - the book definitely wasn't exaggerating the amount of energy it would require, and he'd only maintained the state (including the process of reaching the Extremos mode) only for a couple of minutes. He gulped in apprehension, as his plans of using this trick in battle crumbled. Even though the process would supposedly get easier with time, and exert less strain on him, he doubted he'd ever willingly go through that again.

Instead, he lay back on the floor, trying to get his muscles to listen to him, so he could go start his search.

When he opened his eyes after a short span, moonlight was creeping in through the window, and the clock on his table informed him that it was 12:04 in the night. Standing up, and wincing at the soreness in his entire body, he stretched again, though his muscles protested immediately.

After a short period of time, he was able to gain better control of himself, and he became aware of the soft snores drifting in through his window. Tiptoeing to it, he looked over the edge to find a foot sticking out of nowhere, and grinned.

Apparently, Mundungus had fallen asleep on duty (who else would have such filthy clothes?), and had blown his cover as well. His invisibility cloak was no longer covering his entire frame, as Harry could well see.

Snorting at the so called 'protection' he was under, he resisted the urge to throw a bucket of ice cold water on Mundungus' head, and instead crept out of the room.

Avoiding the creaking stair on his way down, he quietly went outside, his own Invisibility cloak draped over him, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Leaving the front door slightly ajar so he could make his way inside again, he strode outside onto the lawn. Even though he'd never sensed it before, it was like a glaring beacon now, the heart of all the wards that surrounded Privet Drive, keyed into his own magic.

He didn't have to go very far, before he realised that he was standing directly over it. He smirked as he noticed that he was in the lawn of Number 7, and smacked himself. Wasn't it obvious? Of course, Dumbledore would put it in front of Number 7, it being the wizards' most beloved number!

Once he'd made sure that it was indeed in the flowerbed, he made a quick return trip to get a shovel (cursing his stupidity for not carrying one already) and dug into the bed of earth vigorously, feeling only slightly guilty at the vandalisation of his neighbour's property. He paused for a slight second before digging, though, debating for the last time if removing it right then would have any adverse effects. According to Harry's calculations, his presence along with the ambient magic built up at that location would be enough for the wards to pull through for a week at least.

So, after several minutes of intense digging, he stood upright, wiping the sweat from his brow. Looking around to see if anybody had noticed, he grinned, reached down, and picked up the small item in his hand.

The tiny red stone in his hand winked up at him, shining and glittering in the silver moonlight, even as he felt the tiniest of shocks to run through his palm.

**August 10****th****, 1995**

**Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London**

Bill's mouth fell open in shock. "I-is that a keystone?" he asked, his voice somewhat strangled. "How did you come across one?"

"A keystone?" gasped Lupin. "Harry, those are incredibly rare!"

"Indeed, they are," said Harry with a grin, "but I happened to have one lying about in my backyard, so to say..."

"You mean Dumbledore had used a _keystone_ to ward Privet Drive all these years?" asked Lupin, his eyes large, when Harry told them his story. "No wonder I wasn't able to find you at all!"

"Excuse me," piped up Sirius, "but I'd like to know what in the hell you're talking about, and why you weren't able to find Harry! I know about keystones, but what would they have to do with Harry and you?"

Even though he'd said it lightly, there was a hint of steel in his voice. This was one perpetual argument he'd had with Lupin – arguably, Remus had sunk into depression after losing his best friends, but Harry had lost his entire world, and was being forced to live with _Petunia_ instead! Surely that would warrant a visit, or even a Marauder- like rescue from the place.

Remus, on the other hand, was pacing the room wildly, muttering to himself.

"It makes so much sense now," he said, "the wards were so strong that they wouldn't allow any dark creatures in! But then..."

"Harry, where were you when the Dementors attacked?" he asked, turning on his honorary Godson, his eyes wild.

"The park at Wisteria Walk," said Harry, a bit unnerved. "Why?"

"Of course, you were outside the wards!" said Lupin, resuming his pacing. "That's why the Dementors were able to find you, and never me!"

He resumed pacing, talking to himself, till he was passing by Sirius. Sirius seized the opportunity to smack him sharply upside the head, and said, "Oy, Remus, could you not go into the old oh-my-god-I'll-fail-my-exam-even-though-I'm-a-top-student mode and tell me what you're talking about?"

Fred and George sniggered at his words, but Remus was deadly serious.

"Sirius," he said, "the wards – that was the reason I was never able to find Harry in his childhood!"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, intrigued despite himself. A small part of him had always been angry at Remus for not seeking him out all those years he'd been stuck in a cupboard under the stairs...

"Keystones," explained Lupin, "are extremely rare magical objects." He paused to look at Bill, who nodded. 'They're gems, found within the chest of a few magical animals, which mature and grow in size and strength with the passage of time."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, but nobody noticed, and Lupin continued unhindered.

"In fact, these stones are the reasons why Levithians have been hunted almost to extinction," said Lupin, "because the keystones found within them were magnificent, and even though it would take scores of wizards and tens of casualties to kill one, the prize was well worth it, guaranteeing a life of complete luxury if successful."

"Wait a minute," said Ginny, eyes wide, "you mean to say Levithians really existed?"

"Still do," said Lupin, "but only a couple left in the world, and nobody really knows where they are, despite their size..."

Charlie's face held an expression of rapture, but Bill cut in, "Charles Weasley," he said sternly, "I forbid you to go look for Levithians! There are limits, and then there is madness...you'd be crossing the latter if you did so!"

Charlie just stuck his tongue out at Bill. Remus coughed slightly, and they quieted down, waiting for him to continue.

"Keystones have one major purpose," said Lupin. "Warding. Wards made by keystones are immeasurably powerful, and lots of people have conjectured that the Hogwarts wards are of that kind, though nobody's ever found the heart. They can be tailored to last for years, or to fit the needs of a specific person," he gave a glance to Harry.

He turned to Sirius, "You'd been studying to be a Curse Breaker," he said, while Bill raised his eyebrows, interested. "Remember the wards around Giza? What's so special about them?"

"The Pharaoh had a huge fear of vampires," said Sirius immediately, immediately thinking back to his training. "The high priest put up immensely strong wards around his pyramid, tailormade so that no dark creature could enter at all..." his voice trailed off. "You mean Dumbledore did the same for the wards around Privet Drive, knowing that you were a werewolf?"

There was a short silence as this piece of information was taken in.

"You mean," said Charlie finally, "that for all his werewolf rights, Dumbledore kept Harry from being visited by the last link to his parents in some convoluted attempt to keep him sheltered from the Wizarding world?"

"Well," said Lupin, hesitating, "not all werewolves are good, I mean, look at Greyback..."

"Oh, shut it, Remus!" said Sirius angrily. "You mean to tell me Dumbledore couldn't have set the wards for a specific person to gain entry? Even basic wards can do that!"

Another silence ensued, and Dumbledore's reputation fell a little further inside that room.

"Well," said Ginny, "I get that they make for extremely strong wards, but how will that help Harry tomorrow?"

All eyes in the room turned to Harry, who grinned slightly. "Well," he said, "it's a simple plan, really, but genius in hindsight, really..."

"Stop sounding like Sirius, and just tell us, Harry!" said Lupin, grinning at his own joke, while Sirius huffed angrily.

"You see this?" he said, lifting up the Keystone, "We're going to make it a Portkey?"

There was another silence, and then, Charlie said, "Wait. That's it, that's your plan? Make it a Portkey?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, and I happen to think it'll work just fine if Voldemort attacks. I'll be out of there in seconds, before anyone knows what happened. I'd be in deep shit with the Ministry, but I'd rather be a criminal than be dead."

"What makes you think Voldemort is going to attack, anyway? For all you know, this could just be some trick of Fudge...The Dark lord attacking seems to be a bit of a worst case scenario, doesn't it?" asked Ginny.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," said Remus suddenly, his eyes twinkling.

"Dear Ginny," said Harry, shaking his head, in mock disappointment.

"Dear _little_ Ginny," said Sirius, shaking his head, but stopping short when he found the redhead's wand under his nose. "Ok, maybe not little then?"

Ginny shook her head in frustration, but her eyes twinkled as well. The effect Harry had on the two adults, who'd done nothing but mope around until he turned up, and the reverse effect they had on him, was simply amazing, and she couldn't help but be drawn in by their natural charisma.

"Haven't you learned?" asked Remus, continuing anyway, while Sirius sidled away from the wand. "When it comes to Harry, the worst case scenario –"

"Is the only scenario!" finished Harry. "Though the fact that I can say that so calmly worries me." He frowned.

"Ok," said Charlie, "Voldemort may attack Harry tomorrow when he's cooped up in some Ministry holding chambers, though that doesn't reassure me much. But if I'm not mistaken, won't a Portkey be picked up by the guards at the Ministry?"

"No," said Harry, grinning. "That's the beauty of it," said Harry, "in this case, thanks to the keystone, all they should pick up is only my inner magical signature, because that's what's it is matched to. So, if this were to be necklace – a weird one, I know – that I were wearing, all the sensors would pick up would be a simple necklace, and nothing more. Trust me, I've been working on this for some time..."

"Why?" asked Fred, raising his eyebrows.

"I was searching for a way to get Sirius out of this house, actually," said Harry a bit sheepishly. "As long as he was with me, he'd be able to Portkey out of here. I thought it'd make a nice birthday gift, actually..."

The rest of his words were cut off when Sirius engulfed him in a huge bear hug, and didn't let go until he was almost blue in the face. Even after he'd let go, he stood with an arm around Harry, before ruffling his hair affectionately, his eyes watery.

"Thanks," he croaked, but Harry shook his head. "Let's see if it works first."

Bill stepped forward, "I think I can verify that," he said.

"Go ahead," said Harry, tossing the stone at him.

"That's all well and good," said Charlie, "but doesn't the Ministry have anti-Portkey wards?"

"Again," said Sirius, "that can be navigated around. "If I remember correctly, the wards around the Ministry don't allow you to Portkey _in_, but Portkeying out is fine, even though the transport office will be able to pick up a log of the transmit."

Harry held up his hand in protest. "No it won't," he said again, "I can't really explain it, but it'll be a Portkey, but at the same time, no one will be able to recognize it as one, and no one will be able to use it other than me – "

"That doesn't make any sense," began Sirius, but Bill cut him off. "He's correct, people, but there's just one catch."

"What?" asked Harry.

"Well, for it to work," said Bill, "_you_ need to cast the Portkey yourself."

"There's nothing to it, then," said Harry, "pass me the stone." He pulled out his wand, looking expectantly at Bill.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You know how to make a Portkey?" asked Charlie, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes," answered Harry, grinning.

"Really?" asked Bill, his eyebrows raised.

"Really."

"Ever made one before?"

"Yep."

"_Really?"_

"Really, really."

"When?"

Harry smirked in reply. "Contrary to popular belief, the Triwizard Cup was a one way Portkey," he said. "Who do you think charmed it to return?"

Bill handed the keystone over to Harry without further comment.

**August 10****th****, 1995**

**12, Grimmauld Place, London**

**Evening**

He waited outside the dining room, having finished his dinner early and excusing himself. Soon, he heard, "I'll be heading out now, Molly! Thanks for the dinner!"

Moments later, he heard the troll leg get knocked over, and he pounced on his prey.

'Oh, hey, Harry!" said Tonks cheerfully as he helped her up, "didn't see you there!"

"Hey, Tonks," said Harry calmly. Something about his demeanour, especially with his face half hidden in the shadows, and his glowing green eyes, unnerved Tonks.

"Well, I'll be off then," she said, albeit a bit nervously, wanting for some reason to get away as soon as possible.

"Not so fast," said Harry and she froze. "Let's talk a bit, after all, we don't really know each other all that well..." he finished, smirking eerily.

Something about that smirk threw Tonks off, and true to self, she decided to take the bull by its horns.

"All right," she said reluctantly, "let's cut the bad Mafia movie theatrics, and get straight to the point. What do you want to know?"

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," said Harry with a grin.

"Are you trying to flatter me?"

"Would it help you be more open with me?"

"It depends."

"Well then, Tonks, you're looking fine tonight!" retaliated Harry with a grin.

"Nice try, Potter, but you're a bit young for my taste," said Tonks with a grin.

"A guy can dream," said Harry, "but I digress. This setup tomorrow, Voldemort has nothing to do with it, right?"

"What do you mean?" asked Tonks, suddenly nervous.

"Oh come on, Tonks, Voldemort won't be barging into the Ministry anytime soon even if I'm lying there trussed up like a chicken – he's far too cautious right now. Besides, this isn't his Modus Operandi, and I'm sure Dumbledore agrees. So, that would naturally mean someone at the Ministry is out to get me. Who, and why?"

"Well, right now, the entire Ministry would like to get their hands on you, Harry," she said with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. "A name, please?"

"Well," said Tonks, hesitating, "we think it may be someone from Fudge's office itself. You were supposed to be told tomorrow, but don't eat or drink anything the Ministry offers you, because their may be compulsion potions inside them to make you say what they want, instead of the truth. In fact, Snape suggested that they'd use Percy Weasley to drug you, considering that you're already familiar with each other."

Harry winced. No wonder Mrs. Weasley had been so out of sorts at dinner tonight.

"But Harry, be careful, okay?" Tonks said anxiously. "The ministry is filled with Voldemort's spies, so he might just get someone to kidnap you and take you to him. I know you have a plan, but keep on your toes all the same."

"What makes you think I have a plan?" asked Harry, his eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh please, it was obvious," she said with a snort. "I just hope it works, whatever it is. I can atleast depend on Bill or Remus to give you some good ideas!"

"Well, they think that it's all a plan of Voldemort's to get to me, and I didn't really bother to correct them."

"You mean you lied to them? About your own safety?" asked Tonks incredulously.

"Not really," said Harry. "It was more like telling them the selective truth. Besides, they did help me come up with a backup plan, in case Voldemort does attack."

"But what about the fact that the Ministry wants to screw you over? You got something to deal with that?"

"Meh, I'll wing it," said Harry casually, "always do," he added, before walking off, and leaving Tonks open-mouthed.

**August 11****th****, 1995**

**The Ministry of Magic, London**

**The Atrium**

**8:31 am**

"Hurry up there, Harry," said Mr. Weasley kindly. "We don't want to be late, you have to be there by 9!"

Harry tottered slightly. He had the strangest sense of anticipation building within him, and he had this strange feeling that it wasn't his own. Voldemort was up to something...

He stumbled slightly, only to have Mr. Weasley catch him. "You all right, son?" he asked, looking concerned. "Do you want to stop by the Medical Room for a bit?"

"No, I'll be fine," said Harry, as he made his way over to the line with Mr. Weasley. He grinned as he felt the smooth scaly body resting on his arm, and congratulated himself on his brilliant timing.

After all, it wasn't exactly easy to stumble, surreptuously cast a 'Serpensortia' and then modify it so only a tiny garden snake would come out, instead of the large Cobra. Disguising a quiet command to stay still as a cough (the words _were_ quite easy to hide), he approached the Security Desk to hand his wand over.

Despite the keystone resting against his chest, he couldn't help but feel naked without his want, since it had been his one unfailing companion for so long.

Aurors were waiting for him already at the desk. Mr. Weasley was surprised, as well as mildly irritated, that so much gravity was being attached to a simple case of Underage Magic.

"Holly, Eleven Inches, been in use for 4 years?" asked the wizard at the security desk.

When Harry nodded, he impaled the small slip of paper with the wand details on a spike on the table, and made to hand Harry his wand, but was intercepted by the Aurors.

"We'll take that," said one of them, with short blonde hair and watery blue eyes. "Come with us, Mr. Potter, I'm Auror Dawlish."

"Mr. Pott-?" began the Wizard at security, but Dawlish silenced him with a look.

"You heard nothing, and will say nothing," he said icily. "Understood?"

The Wizard only nodded fearfully in reply.

Turning to Harry, Dawlish said, "Follow me."

Mr. Weasley made to accompany him, but with a tiny smirk, Dawlish said, "It's fine, Arthur, we'll take it from here."

"What?" spluttered Mr. Weasley, "b – but, last minute –" he stopped short, and Dawlish narrowed his eyes.

"Last minute _what_, Arthur?" he asked.

"Oh, there's no need for any last minute words of courage, Mr. Weasley," said Harry, salvaging the situation before it detoriated further. "I'll be fine, just wish Ginny a Happy Birthday for me."

"There's a good lad," said Dawlish with a nod, before taking his arm and dragging him away from Mr. Weasley, who could only watch reluctantly. "Now, since you're being taken into police custody as a suspect, you have certain rights," he said, "which I'm sure you're aware of, so I won't reiterate them." He said with a nasty grin. He'd been briefed that Potter was Muggle raised and an average student at best, so he'd be completely unaware of his laws and rights, so he was in for a nasty shock.

"Yes, I'm well aware," said Harry. "Now, I'd like to speak to my Lawyer, and before that, I'd like to go the restroom. That way?" he asked innocently, pointing at the signpost hanging above them.

He strode off immediately, leaving the Aurors to catch up with him. 'What're you playing at, Potter?" asked another, dark-haired Auror.

"Nothing, I really need the restroom," he confessed. "And my lawyer," he added as an afterthought. "White &White's Firm, Mr. White himself, just tell him Harry Potter's asking for help."

The Auror's stopped short, stymied, and Harry enjoyed a moment of satisfaction. White & White's was probably the most high-end magical law firm around, and , the current heir and head, was their very best, with a mind-boggling win-to-loss ratio. Besides, he'd like to enjoy the look on Dumbledore's face when he'd learn that he wouldn't be the one defending Harry, as he'd no doubt planned. Dumbledore's ship was sinking fast, and Harry had no wish to tie himself to its mast.

"We'll be waiting outside," said Dawlish, "don't try anything funny, or we'll know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course, I'm going in to set up a spying system so I can find out why you're conducting this ridiculous charade!"

'Watch it, kid, I don't appreciate your humour!" snarled the Auror, but Harry was already walking into the restroom.

Walking into a cubicle, he pushed up the sleeves of his dress robes (new ones which Mrs. Weasley had gushed over), revealing the tiny snake coiled around his arm.

"_Listen up,_" he hissed, "_soon, I will place you inside the clothes of another person. I want you to stay there and listen to everything he talks about."_ Harry knew from the Daily Prophet and Sirius that Dawlish was Fudge's personal Auror, and would be the one most likely to take him into custody. "_And then I want you to report back to me, telling me everything he has spoken about. I want to find out if he's conspiring against me. Understood?"_

The snake stared at him for a long second with inscrutable eyes, before bowing its head and hissing, "_Understood."_

He nodded, satisfied, and pushed his sleeve back down. _"Be ready to slide off,"_ he said, and received a twitch in reply. Normally, the snake would last eight hours before vanishing, and that would be enough for him.

Walking over to the sinks, he washed his face slightly, rearranged the lens on his right eye slightly, and then stood upright, turning on his aura, a trick he'd picked up from watching Dumbledore. Granted, it wasn't at impressive when he wasn't highly emotional or angry, but it still gave him that slight attitude he'd need to make an impression.

He walked into the bathroom Harry Potter, and walked out Harry James Potter, the Boy – Who –Lived.

"Shall we?" he asked the Aurors lightly.

Dawlish just grunted and led him towards the lifts.

**TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP**

"Watch it, Potter!" snarled Dawlish as the teenager tripped while walking into the lift, and grabbed onto his robes to steady himself.

Harry muttered a quick apology, ignoring the ugly look on the Auror's face, before standing next to him, a faint smile on his face, and the snake now gone from his arm, safe in Dawlish' large pocket.

Now, all he had to do was to take care of the matter of his wand. He wasn't foolish, Fudge and his cronies would undoubtedly use it as a bargaining chip against him.

He grinned slightly, patting his bag containing his clothes and accesories to make sure the object in question was there.

"Take the bag off, and walk through the detector, Potter," said Dawlish, once they'd reached the DMLE.

Complying, Harry walked through it, only to have the sensors go off loudly. Immediately, he found himself on the wrong end of two wands.

"Thought you were so smart, Potter?" asked Dawlish, a smirk on his face, "out with it, what'd you do in the bathroom?"

"Nothing," said Harry, "I just realised, I'm using magical lenses. Would that set off the sensors?"

That took the wind out of their sails. "It probably would," said Dawlish, "the sensors are very sensitive. Take 'em off, then, lad!"

"I'm going to need my wand, then," said Harry, holding out his hand.

He waited with baited breath as Dawlish narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I can't take them off without it, they're magical lenses, for Lord's sake!"

"Why you little –"

"What is going on here?" came a sharp voice. "Why were the sensors disturbed?"

Harry turned to find a square jawed woman with a monocle and close cropped grey hair walk up to them, recognising her immediately. "Mr. Potter, I assume?" she asked, offering her hand.

"Madam Bones," he said, taking it and kissing it with a bow. "A pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Potter." She then turned to the Aurors, "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, that would be my fault," interjected Harry, "it seems my magical lenses set off the sensors, so I was asking for my wand to remove them?"

"Magical lenses, never had any patience for them," she said. "Well, give the boy his wand," she snapped, "I don't think he has any plans of escaping, do you, Mr. Potter?"

"And be denied the sight of such a beautiful and capable woman, Madam? No a chance!" he replied with a roguish grin.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're like your father, Mr. Potter?"

"Several times, Madam, but it never hurts to hear it again."

"Well, in that case, Mr. Potter," a tiny grin pulled at her mouth, "stay away from my niece."

"Crystal, Madam," said Harry with a grin, taking his wand back from the Aurors, who seemed miffed that he'd immediately managed to charm the Head of the Department.

Entering the delicate part of his plan, Harry couldn't help but be nervous under the watchful eyes of three law enforcers, one of them amongst the most celebrated of her age.

Taking his time to go about removing his lenses, he was relieved immediately, when he heard, "Hold on, Potter, what's this?"

He turned, and was immensely relieved to see the dark-haired auror holding up a bottle of deodorant.

"Oh, that," he said casually, reaching over and plucking it out of the Auror's hand. "That's a deodorant," he explained, "a kind of muggle perfume. I understand wizards prefer perfumes or charms, but this works better for me, especially after Quidditch practices. This is an extra large one, though."

Taking the cap off, he took it into his right hand, shifting his wand to hold it properly. Praying to whatever Gods there were, he pressed the nozzle, demonstrating how a spray of aerosol came out. That was not the only thing that happened, though.

He shifted the base of his thumb slightly, so the back of the wand rested against the butt off the bottle. As soon as he pressed the nozzle, two runes activated, and the bottom of the can vanished, unseen by anyone. His own wand was sucked into the can (which had a very craftily made compartment inside) and immediately shrunk, while another wand sped out, landing neatly in his arm, as the bottom replaced itself.

He could have jumped for joy at that instant. He'd stayed up all night, working on and planning that contraption, and then working on handling it properly. Whoever said Harry Potter wasn't smart was right.

He was devious, to the point of being a genius. The beauty of it lay in the fact that nobody would ever suspect a paltry muggle item of being such a fantastic device. He wiped an imaginary tear with an imaginary hand.

_Beatiful, _Potter.

And as for the fake, eleven inch, holly wand which he handed back to Dawlish after muttering a nonsense spell and removing his lenses...well, Fred and George weren't the only ones who'd dabbled in fake wands. Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had as well.

"Back through the sensors again, then, Potter," said Dawlish, and Harry made to return the deodorant, but was stopped by Madam Bones.

"Just a second, Potter," his heartbeat almost ceased in fear. "You forgot the cap to your device," she said, and he could almost cry in relief at that moment. "Nice smell, by the way."

"Thanks," he said, his grin giving away only a fraction of the euphoria he was feeling, "the ladies love it."

"Like I said, Mr. Potter, stay away from my niece."

And he just laughed as he walked through the sensors again, the Portkey against his chest not being set off, just as he'd planned. He wondered, for a split second, if this was how James Bond felt like on his missions, with his devices, and suave behaviour. He'd definitely fit the role today, what with spying snakes, rigged up deodorants, and if he said so himself, killer charm.

Maybe he'd be saying, "Potter...Harry Potter" soon, too.

Engaged in his own fantasies as he followed the Aurors to the holding room, he almost ran into another person.

"Sorry," he apologised hastily, before recognising the person.

"Ah, Harry," said Mr. White with a grin, "I was just at the Ministry, when I heard you were around. Shall we?" he said, extending his hands into the room, which Harry was surprised to see was quite decently furnished, with a bed and a dresser.

"We shall," he agreed, but when the Aurors made to follow, he said, "In private, as the law states, and as is my right, isn't it?

"Indeed," agreed the lawyer with a laugh, eyes twinkling.

"Be seeing you, then," said Harry, with a grin at the Aurors.

"I'll be back to check on you soon, Potter, make no mistake. Stevens here will be on guard," Said Dawlish, "So I repeat, don't try anything funny. Mr. White, sir," he said with a nod, before turning sharply on his heel and walking away, the other Auror taking up guard next to the door.

"After you, Harry," said , and he nodded, before leading the lawyer into his temporary prison.

**TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP**

"_My Lord," said Lucius, bowing before Voldemort, "I ask you to reconsider, Potter is alone at the Ministry of Magic, I implore you to send me so that I can capture him and bring him to you...so that you can strike him down once and for all and establish your superiority!"_

"_Silence!" said Voldemort, "Do not dare question my plans, Lucius! CRUCIO!"_

_The blonde in question writhed in agony on the floor, until the Dark Lord saw it fit to lift the curse, and he was left shivering on the floor._

"_No..." said Voldemort, "No, Harry Potter is to be left alone for now, for I have my own designs for him. And I have serious doubts about your efficiency now, Lucius," he said. When the other Death Eaters sniggered at the insult at Lucius, he hissed, silencing them immediately. "Do not rejoice!" he said, "for I am as displeased at your failures as Lucius'!"_

"_Forgive us, my Lord!" said one, stepping forward. "We promise to do better from now on!"_

"_Better, Selwyn? Indeed, I hope so! You shall have your chance tonight, when we free the final of our brethren, and when I will have the strongest of my followers back beside me! But, till then, maybe some incentive to act? CRUCIO!"_

_And another Death Eater fell prey to his wand._

"_We attack as soon as darkness falls," said the Dark Lord, "do not fail me now, Death Eaters, because I will not tolerate failure any longer. Now, you are dismissed, and begone from my sight, before I curse any of you miserable excuses for wizards again! Perhaps you will learn from my best once they are released, how to capture a teenage wizard when you outnumber him 3 to 1!"_

_Nobody thought it prudent to even think out loud that he had been bested by that teenager as well._

_And as the room emptied in haste, the Death Eaters falling over each other to get out of his sight, he withdrew back into the confines of his mind, biding his time and power like a snake waiting to strike, one word set on his mind..._

**TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP**

Harry awoke with a gasp from his dream, immediately rushing over to pull out a pad and a pen from his pad (he still hadn't given up using Muggle stationery despite living in the Wizarding World for so long). A quick glance at the window told him it was late afternoon, several hours after his lawyers had left. Hastily, he drew the one Rune that was still floating in his mind, left over from Voldemort's own thoughts about the place.

It was an archaic Runic script, clearly used by Dark Wizards – its edges jagged and its points tapering like barbs.

It took him some time, but in the end, all he could do was stare down in horror at the word on his pad.

_Azkaban._

**TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP**

Far out in the North Sea, a woman slowly opened her eyes, alone in her cell, and her gaze fell on her arm. Revelling in the warmth of the skull-and-snake tattoo on her arm, she bent down and licked it from top to bottom, relishing in the taste of her Lord's brand.

She'd been waiting so long, for this day to come...

And then she cackled hysterically, as the mark slowly grew even darker than it had two months back, and she felt that familiar twinge of pain. Pleasure rolling through her entire body, she laughed even louder, pitying all those fools who were on guard duty that day.

_Her master was coming to get her._

**TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP****TLOHP:OOTP**

**Author's Note: Well, hi. (Dodges a billion rotten tomatoes)**

**Yes, I know it's been a while. Well, I did say it was a slow updating story, but yeah, this is taking slow updating a bit far. Honestly, I'm having a tough time balancing writing and school, and my exams start this Monday (wish me luck), so it'll be some time again before I write again.**

**That said, I am TERRIBLY scared by this chapter. I dunno, I just am. Anyway, no long Author's note for me, I'm off to study Biology.**

**And ha! You thought I'd abandoned this story, huh?**

**Well, you were wrong! Skip my designated update date, take some time to update, but pack it in altogether? Never!**

**Crap, no, that doesn't sound like Fred and George's dialogue from Goblet of Fire, does it? And yeah, I'm fascinated by the concept of Magicus Extremos from the Goblet of Fire game, as you can see. I wonder why no story I've read has used it before...**

**So long, Farewell, Auf Weidersehen, Goodbye! (I hope you know where that's from.)**

**PS: Can anybody connect the lyrics to the song at the beginning (which I love) to the spy mentioned in the chapter (who's pretty damn awesome too!)?**

**PPS: Oh, and this 'Image Manager' deal sounds like banners from HPFF. Well, if there are any artists out there...pretty please? (with puppy dog eyes). If you like this story, and you're interested, Private Message me. Something badass would be appreciated. Credit will be given where credit is due, as well. **


	6. At the Ministry

**Chapter 6: At the Ministry**

**11****th**** August 1995**

**2:00 p.m. **

**Them Ministry of Magic, London**

"Why was I never told of this?!" asked Harry incredulously. "This was in none of the books I'd read! The Goblins never told me when they gave me the heir status!"

"Understandable, Harry," said Mr. White, his pale grey eyes meeting Harry's vivid green ones. "How would you, as a common Citizen of the Magical Community of Britain feel, if you read that the Pureblood Families, especially Ancient Ones, had nearly a free out-of-jail pass? And as for the Goblins, I suppose it wasn't really relevant – no one expected a full Wizarding Hearing for a measly teenager."

"But then what was the point of the hearing?" asked the young wizard, incensed. "If they knew that I'd be able to present my case so easily and get a clear victory, what was the point?"

Mr. White's face took on a pensive look, before he sighed. "Two things. Three, in fact." First, simply to show that no one is above the law, not even the Boy-Who-Lived – that's what Fudge wants to show. It wouldn't really be good for your popularity if you were called to a disciplinary hearing, and the matter was made public, was it?"

"So he wants me to look like some wild child with no responsibility?" asked Harry, grinning.

Mr. White's lips twitched. "Indeed," he said. "Secondly, your history is well known in the world, and even know, you are keenly looked at by the Pureblood Circles. I'm sure that your new persona..." he raised his eyebrow at Harry, "will garner quite a reaction. What I am saying is, the Wizengamot expects a misguided child, raised by Muggles, ignorant of all customs and nuances of our society – and I'm sure that you'll be proving them wrong tomorrow." He said, inclining his head. "They do not expect you to know of our Firm's partnership with your family, and they do not expect that I would tell you about the Pensieve law."

"Thirdly, and I am sure you will concur," the lawyer paused for a second, and grinned, "Fudge is an idiot, and underestimates you completely, a colossal mistake on his part...as I am sure you will show him, tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Harry, with a wolfish grin. "But this law," he said, wrinkling his nose, "it's utter rubbish. Just because I'm the Heir and to-be Head of an Ancient Family, I can submit a Pensieve Memory, and be done with it?"

Mr. White nodded his head, and Harry couldn't help but protest. "But that's bullshit! Anybody with a decent education in the required areas can fake memories!"

"Which is why you can see why the Death Eaters from the Past War are still running scot-free," said Mr. White. "Despicable, but there are rumours that this Law is the source of Fudge's summer home in the Bahamas."

Harry nodded his head. "So, this is it? I mean, I can get off on the stupidest loophole possible? Isn't that kind of...anticlimactic?"

"You mean to say that even though Fudge and his team have tried so hard to incriminate you, the slightest overlooking of a detail by them will screw up their entire plans?"

Harry nodded again.

"Well," sighed Mr. White wistfully, "that's the Ministry for you." The two shared a hearty laugh, before Mr. White took a look at his watch.

"Merlin's Beard, would you look at that?" he said. "Two o'clock already? How time flies, especially in good company," he added with a smile. "Anyway, I think that concludes the matter, Mr. Potter."

He stood up, opening his briefcase and safely putting in the vial Harry had filled with his memory a few minutes ago. "Now, finally, as you had asked, we have refurbished the Safehouse as you had asked, and set up the charms you wanted. Here," he said, handing Harry a piece of paper, which he kept inside his bag without looking at – the longer the secret was kept, the better.

"Food and drink has also been provided, in fact," Mr. White rummaged about in his suitcase, before drawing out a paper bag, "with regards from Dobby," he said, chucking it at Harry, who caught it smoothly out of the air.

Harry smirked. Uncontaminated food and drink, check.

"Thanks, but I sincerely hope I won't need the safehouse anytime soon," said Harry.

"I do too," said Mr. White sincerely, before hesitating. "But about its location...are you sure, Harry?"

The teenager in question nodded. "Seemed a fitting place, somehow."

Mr. White picked his briefcase off the table and made for the door, Harry following him. At the entrance, he turned and nodded. "Fitting, indeed. I'll see you tomorrow." And with that, he was gone.

Harry raised his eyebrow as he felt the enchantments around the door. Bringing his hand near it, he frowned as he encountered some sort of resistance, which did not allow it to pass through. So there were charms all around...no wonder they hadn't bothered with guards in his room.

Going back into his room, he looked around for a second, before his eyes fell on one of the chairs. Smiling grimly, he picked it up, walked over to the wall, and then smashed it against the wall, breaking one of its legs immediately. He grinned as he imagined the gobsmacked look any witnesses would have if they saw his behaviour.

Picking up the chair and the leg, he threw them carelessly near the table.

He made his way over to the door, extended his hand, and started pushing at the barrier again. He was expecting Stevens to be on guard as Dawlish at said, but it seemed that he was mistaken.

A passing Auror noticed his efforts, and smiled, before calling out, "I wouldn't try that, Mr. Potter," he said. "You may have gotten the best room in our facilities for detaining a prisoner, but that also means it has the best enchantments. You won't be going anywhere, not with all those detection charms in the room."

Harry nodded, before asking, "That's good, but do you think you could help me with something?"

Curios, the Auror made his way over. "Roger McDonald," he said, taking Harry's hand in a firm handshake. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well," Harry hesitated. "I...I may just have broken a chair in a fit of anger while I was talking to my Lawyer, and I didn't really want word to get out about it. I think I've made a bad enough impression on the Ministry already, I don't want it to get worse."

"That must have been some news your Lawyer gave you," said McDonald, grinning. "Alright, but just this once, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks," said Harry, pretending to be grateful. Honestly, he'd expected a more acerbic reaction.

That, however, was explained when McDonald spoke up again as he made his way into the room, crossing the barrier with ease. "My daughter's in your House in Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," he said. "She thinks very highly of you, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her that it's okay to hurl chairs when you're angry." He said with a chuckle.

Faking a mock ashamed look, Harry thought for a moment, "Natalie McDonald?" he asked finally, "First Year?" and Roger nodded.

"She was a big fan of yours during the Tournament last year..." he said, and Harry nodded. "Congratulations on that, and...just to let you know, Mr. Potter, I was a Gryffindor myself...and I believe you, about You-Know-Who, whatever the Ministry's saying," he whispered.

Harry felt a sudden rush of kinship with the man. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

Roger just nodded, before he suddenly looked sheepish. "Now, where's this chair?"

Harry pointed to the wreckage lying near the table.

"Like I said," said McDonald with a wave of his wand, "that must have been some news that your Lawyer gave you." Harry watched as the pieces of the chair fixed themselves, the leg flying back to the seat – magic had fascinated him ever since he'd found out what it was.

"Well, if that's all," said McDonald, and Harry nodded.

"Thanks," he said, "I owe you one."

"No, you don't," said the Auror. "My brother, he was part of the first war. Voldemort took him out himself during a raid at Diagon Alley – I saw him fall. You didn't know what it was like then, Mr. Potter, and you'll never be able to grasp how big it was a relief it was to us when you vanquished him in 1981 –"

"But he's back now," said Harry.

"I'll say it again, I believe you," said McDonald, "I believe Dumbledore, and I'm a good friend of Amos' as well. If the three of you say it, I'll believe it."

"Thanks," said Harry again, heavily.

The Auror nodded, and made his way out of the room. Like , he turned at the entrance. "There's a storm coming, Mr. Potter, and be sure that the Wizarding World will look to you for leadership...do you think you can do it?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "I'm not sure," he said finally, "but I sure as hell will try my best!"

"Attaboy," said McDonald with a grin. "Till then, keep your chin up – don't worry, your followers don't believe all the junk the Prophet's writing about you, just like me."

Harry nodded. It was good to see that some people, at least, could think for their own, and stood by their beliefs, through thick and thin.

"Like you said, there's a war coming," said the teenager, "when it does, I may not be on the best terms with the Ministry – but I will still need information on the workings, as well as the Aurors."

He fixed his gaze on the elder man, the question evident.

McDonald hesitated, before asking Harry, "Is it true, that you duelled the Dark Lord, and then took Cedric's body back to Amos, despite having a busted leg?"

Harry hesitated. After a long silence, McDonald frowned. "I understand, if you don't want to talk about it..."

Harry shook his head, finally coming to a decision. "You have a vial on you?"

Puzzled, the Auror held out one. "Wand?" said Harry, holding his hand out.

McDonald's eyes went round as he understood what Harry was doing. "Are you sure?" he asked, the awe evident in his voice.

"The world needs to know, Auror McDonald" said Harry firmly. "If the Ministry's lying, the least I can do is get the truth out to some people." Taking a deep breath, he put the offered wand to his temple, and proceeded to pull out a thin blue thread of memory. It was pleasantly weird, like pulling earwax out of one's ear.

Putting it gently into the vial, he handed it to the stunned Auror. "Don't let it fall into the wrong hands, eh?"

The Auror was stock still for a moment, before he shook his head. "You can take my word on it. I'll send word out to the proper people – believe it or not, Mr. Potter, some people were smart enough to know that he'd not really gone, but just delayed – the signs were all there over the years..."

McDonald paused for another moment, before he put the vial safely in his pocket, and pulled out a torn piece of parchment, and a quill. Scribbling on it, he held it out to Harry.

"My address, just in case," he explained, and Harry grinned. "Write to me if you're in trouble, and I'll see what I can do. You're invited to Christmas Dinner as well, if you want, but you'll have to give me a week's notice. Martha would be delighted," he said with a smile.

Harry nodded his head, and the Auror turned to go, before he stopped short, and looked back with a small smile. "Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I was just wondering. From what Natalie's said, you're short and skinny with an unassuming air, and if you'd excuse me, she says your grades are rather average as well. But I've been an Auror for 24 years, and I'll be damned if I can't feel a slight aura on you. And if I can feel your Aura, without being a Reader, that must be some power you've got there...care to explain?"

"I've been getting that a lot, for the past week or so," said Harry. "Watch the memory," he said with a wink, before going back into his room, with a sense of accomplishment.

He'd gained a rather important supporter, one which could get him some more. All he needed was to shake their faith in Dumbledore a bit, and bring them over to his side, completely.

_But more importantly,_ he thought, grinning, _I've found out that I can do magic inside the room without setting off any alarms._ _And in a building as saturated with magic as the Ministry, no one will know it's me!_

Taking out the deodorant he'd rigged, he thumbed the runes again, and then rejoiced as he felt the usual warmth shoot up his arm. Grabbing the keystone around his neck which doubled as a Portkey, he pulled it off, and put it on the table.

Concentrating a bit, he took off the Portkey Charms off it, and then carefully took aim with his wand again. "Diffindo," he whispered, and the keystone split neatly into two down the middle.

The room was suddenly filled with excess magic, cloying the air, and it refreshed Harry as he felt it flow into every pore in his cell. Suddenly feeling completely confident, he cast two separate _Portus_ charms on each, before slipping them into two different pockets. The first, of course, led to Grimmauld Place, just as he'd originally planned.

The other, was there if things went pear-shaped with both the Ministry and Dumbledore. It led to his safehouse, in the plot of land behind the cottage in Godric's Hollow – Just in case.

He was distracted by a knock on his door. Quickly shoving his wand back into his bag, he answered it, to find Percy at the door.

"Mr. Pot – Harry," said Percy, and ugly smile on his face. "Your afternoon refreshment," he said, holding out a tray.

Harry took it into his own hands, making a note to practise his Vanishing skills on it. "So, relegated to a waiter at the Ministry now?" he said, adding a charming smile just for the heck of it. "I'm sure your father and mother will be happy to know that," he said, "you know, the ones who raised you, and the ones you had a fallout with just because you wanted to shove your cranium up the Minister's rectum?"

Percy's face turned red, and his wand was in his hand in an instant. "Go ahead," said Harry, curse me. "Let's see how that ends, _Weatherby._"

Reluctantly, Percy put his wand down, still seething. "Just eat your goddamned food, I'll be back for the tray later."

"I'll keep it out by the door when I'm done, I don't think I could handle seeing your ugly traitorous mug twice in one day," said Harry coolly.

Percy growled. "You'll get your comeuppance, Potter! Dumbledore won't be around to save you tomorrow!"

"Indeed?" said Harry calmly, raising his eyebrows. Percy was a bit stunned to see so little reaction at this words.

"Anyway," he blustered, "Madam Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, may come talk to you later tonight, and see if this matter can be resolved by an out of court settlement. Good luck with that," said Percy, with a smug grin, before turning sharply and stalking away.

"Oh bring it, bitch," said Harry with a grin. "I'll be waiting..."

At the same time, Stevens, his guard, ambled over to the door, a bit surprised to see his charge at the doorway.

"Nice to see you, my valiant guard!" said Harry, "Where've you been?" he asked. "Don't tell me...you've been to see a man about a dog?"

For some reason, the Auror, who already looked rather flushed, turned even redder.

Harry just grinned and walked back into his room, shutting the door behind him. Putting the food down on the table, he took out his wand again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he announced to absolutely nobody, "I give you – Transfiguration 601!" The food was vanished in a matter of seconds, and he tore into the pumpkin juice and sandwiches that Dobby had sent instead, careful to use a replicating and a refilling charm on the food and drink, respectively.

Sighing, he laid back on his bed, and began to try and figure out a way he would acquire the mysterious prophecy Sirius had told him about last night, when everyone had gone to bed. Feeling well fed and extremely lazy, it wasn't long before he was fast asleep, instead of planning a daring mission.

**11****th**** August, 1995**

**4:00 pm**

**The Ministry of Magic, London**

Harry stared down at the piece of paper before him, dread rising within him. Voldemort was planning on breaking into Azkaban, and he was the only one who knew of his plans.

Worse still, he was utterly helpless at the moment.

He bunked the idea of trying to tell anyone within the Ministry immediately, it simply wouldn't work. He was already looked upon as a nutter, and even if people like McDonald believed him, the Auror didn't hold enough sway to mobilise a full blown defense of the prison.

He sat down heavily on his bed, his mind racing, trying to come up with a plan, a way to prevent this attack.

A stroke of inspiration later, he was standing with his wand in his hand.

4:00 pm meant that Sirius was upstairs in the attic with Buckbeak, completely alone.

Pulling his arm back, his wrist near his right ear, he brought his wand down smartly, concentrating on the required words. What he was about to attempt required intent concentration, because one had to think on both the message as well as a proper memory for the spell to work.

Bringing his arm down with a flourish, he said, "_Expecto Patronum!"_

From the end of his wand, Prongs burst out. Bowing his head at Harry once to show he'd understood the message, he took off immediately, going through the wall and out the window like a ghost. Harry just hoped nobody at the Ministry noticed it – that was a risk he was willing to take.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

**11****th**** August, 1995**

**The Attic, 12 Grimmauld Place, London**

Sirius was sitting back next to Buckbeak, worrying about Harry, when he was suddenly shocked out of his reverie by the appearance of Prongs.

Even though he'd seen Harry cast the Patronus last year, it was still an unsettling experience to see the silvery form of the stag he'd shared so many happy memories with as Padfoot.

"_Sirius,"_ spoke Harry's voice, and Sirius had no time to think about how Harry had his wand when he heard the next sentence, "_Voldemort's planning to attack Azkaban come darkness. Tell Dumbledore, ASAP!"_

Sirius heart sank. Azkaban?

He charged out of the attic like a man possessed. He was no fool, if there was a breakout in Azkaban, he knew who would immediately be blamed, being the only man who'd managed to break out of Azkaban before.

Sirius Black. Him.

He barrelled past Ron on his way down the stairs, and shocked the Twins and Ginny, who were laughing and joking together in her room, along with Lupin, who was regaling them with a story of the Marauders.

"Sirius?!" said Lupin, "slow down, what's going on?" Even though he was out of breath, Sirius couldn't help but grin a bit – Remus had been telling them about the Great Knicker Raid of 1976, and that was still one of his proudest memories.

"The Knicker Raid?" he asked with a grin. "Oh, Cynthia Jerkins was so angry when she found out –"

"Sirius!" yelled the others, "Concentrate!"

"Oh yeah," said Sirius, and then swore violently, "Remus, Voldemort's going to attack Azkaban and break out his followers today!"

Remus paled. 'What?! This better not be a prank!"

"I'm serious!" said Sirius, and then grinned slightly. "Well, I _am-"_

"SIRIUS!" shouted the others, and he continued, "I'm not lying! Harry just sent a Patronus –"

"Harry?" asked Ginny. "But he's holed up at the Ministry, and he doesn't have a wand!"

"You can use a Patronus to send messages," said Lupin, "though I don't know who taught him. And how _does _he have a wand?" he asked.

"Remus, this is _Harry_ we're talking about," said Sirius, and Lupin nodded, accepting the explanation. "We need to get to Dumbledore!"

Twenty minutes later, the same duo, as well as the other Order Members, were standing before Dumbledore, flabbergasted.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius, enraged. "What do you mean, we can do nothing?!"

"Sirius, look at this logically," began the Headmaster.

'Fuck logic!" said Sirius angrily. "Those are some of the most dangerous men in all of Britain, Dumbledore! How can you sit back and watch while they break loose again?!"

"Sirius!" admonished Dumbledore, "I am sorry, but I will be forced to remove you from the room if you do not control your temper!"

Sirius shut up, but the furious look on his look remained.

"As I was saying," said Dumbledore, "We cannot afford to undertake this mission, as the Order," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, we are overextended, with all of us in different countries, and the rest in the Ministry, working their jobs. It would be highly suspicious if they all left their jobs at the same time that the Breakout occurred. And secondly, what if we lose our men at Azkaban? How would you explain the presence of the corpses of normal, unassuming Citizens of the Magical Community in the prison?! No, we must regroup and let Voldemort take this day."

"I don't like this," said Moody, "but he's correct. There's nothing that we can do – this breakout was inevitable, anyway..."

"I don't believe this!" said Sirius. "Every single person in this room has lost some family or near one at the hands of one of those Death Eaters, and you'll allow them to run free and cause havoc again?! If this is our precious Order, then I spit on it! At least we had some backbone in the First War!"

"Don't bother," he added spitefully at Dumbledore, "I'm leaving!" Pushing past the others, he stormed out of the room, banging the door shut, and stonily ignoring the questions of the children outside the room.

As he made his way back up to the attic, in his anger, he didn't notice Ron, who was lurking about shiftily, and jumped suddenly, the bulge in his shirt pocket bouncing, when Sirius passed.

"You must forgive Sirius," Dumbledore wearily told the others, "he is a good man, but a man of action...being cooped up in this house isn't good for him."

The others looked like they wanted to disagree and say that Sirius had an extremely valid point, but they thought the better of it.

At that same time, Snape walked into the room, looking every bit his usual bat-like self.

"Albus," he began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"I already know, Severus," said the Headmaster. "How bad is it?"

"The Dark Lord is angry, and scared at the same time, like a cornered animal. Azkaban has no choice to yield before him, and I fear the Dementors will follow before long."

Gasps echoed around the room. Dumbledore sighed, his face looking lined and ancient.

"Very well," he said. He turned to the other Order members, "if you would kindly give me and Severus some privacy?" and they complied, shuffling out until only Snape and Dumbledore were left inside the room.

"How did you know, Albus?" asked Snape, his face grave.

"Harry," explained the older wizard. "He has somehow chanced upon a wand, and managed to send a message to Sirius."

"A message?" asked Snape.

"Via Patronus," said Dumbledore, his face betraying the tiniest hint of pride in his student. Snape's face remained the same, but then, he was always loathe to give praise when it came to Harry.

"How did he manage to chance upon the wand?" he asked, "any ideas?"

Despite himself, Dumbledore chuckled a bit. "This is Harry we're talking about, Severus. Whatever else he has been, he has always been a resourceful one. Perhaps he will enlighten me tomorrow," he finished.

Snape said nothing, his face remaining inscrutable.

"Anyway," said Albus, "what I feared is coming to pass. The link between Harry and Voldemort is slowly growing, like a parasitic connection between them. The piece of Voldemort in Harry, as I have put it before, is enabling this link between them."

He waited a bit for Snape's answer. He had a sneaking suspicion about Harry's scar, but he was sure that Severus did not know. The Potions Master may have dabbled in the Dark Arts when he was young and foolish, but he wasn't foolish enough to dabble in Dark Soul Magic.

"So, is not there a way to remove this..._piece_ of the Dark Lord from within Potter. It already seems to give him a much inflated head, so perhaps this will do him some good.

Dumbledore tutted at his employee's words, but let it slide. "That may be possible, Severus, but even if I could, I wouldn't," he said, and Snape's eyebrow rose. "I fear that the connection will come in extremely handy during the War, and I am understandably desperate for any advantage I can get." "Besides," he continued, "even if I were to remove it, I fear that the connection will still remain. Harry and Voldemort are connected in a manner singularly unique to them, and even if the piece of Voldemort were gone, the Dark Magic which acted between them that night would linger. The thing in the scar, whatever it is, has festered and grown within Harry for years, leaving a deep scar _within_ him, which is what truly facilitates his link to Voldemort."

"So in other words, even the aftereffects of the magic in the scar will continue to corrupt and torture Potter even if we somehow manage to remove it?"

"Indeed, Severus," said the Headmaster. "And as long as Voldemort lives, he and Harry will be joined by this Dark Magic."

"But then what about the Scar's effects on Potter?" asked Snape. "Could it not corrupt the Boy as well? What if he turns into the next Dark Lord, Albus? You saw as well as I that he has the potential, and he had already been keeping secrets from everyone-"

"Which is what I want to talk to you about, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Should this happen again on a big scale, Harry's dreams of Voldemort, then he must be instructed to close his mind, Severus, to control his emotions."

"You want me to teach Potter Occlumency," said Snape, his face a complete mask.

Dumbledore nodded, and for the first time, a hint of anger entered Snape's countenance.

"Surely you jest, Albus?"

"I do not, my boy," replied the old Wizard. "As much as it pains me to admit it, you must be the one to teach him. I simply cannot afford for him to learn from me, lest any _accidents_ - shall we say? – happens..."

"I have done many things for you over the years, Albus, and yet you continue to make such requests of me –"

Dumbledore cut in, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "It wasn't a request, Severus."

Instantly, Snape's face turned to steel, and he looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. Black met blue, and for a long second, the room was in utter silence as two wills crashed. Finally, Snape made a disgusted sound, before stalking out of the room, his bat like robes flapping behind him. Much like Sirius before him, he slammed the door angrily, causing the glass in the room to shudder.

Albus sighed and sank into his chair, his head in his hands.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**11****th**** August, 1995**

**5:30 pm**

**The Ministry of Magic, London**

Harry was jerked out of his reverie by a low hiss from one corner of the room.

"_Report,"_ he hissed immediately, recognising his conjured snake, which was already beginning to look blurred around the edges.

"_Your enemies are numerous, and powerful," _replied the serpent. _"The man whose pocket you put me in, he works for Cornelius Fudge, who is apparently the most powerful man in the land."_

"Most powerful man in the land my arse," muttered Harry, "_Continue."_

"_Together, they planned your downfall. They spoke of charming your food, and then sent it to you via a redheaded youngling." _

Harry nodded, that was one bullet he'd avoided.

"_Your guard visited my charge next. It seems that they are amorous with each other, and indeed prefer 'doing it doggy style' as my charge so nicely put it."_

Harry fought the urge to throw up, immediately understanding why the dog comment had thrown Stevens off. Desperately trying to not think of any scenes in his head of the two Aurors humping each other like dogs in the heat, he motioned for the snake to continue.

"_They plan to threaten you with your wand, Master – a toad-like woman, she said that she would break it unless you complied with their demands. She seemed to think that being a youngling, you would be intimdated by her."_

"Not likely," snorted Harry. This toad-like woman seemed to be the Umbridge who Percy had spoken of earlier.

"_Also, the timing of your hearing has been changed tomorrow – they plan to start it two hours before time."_

Harry started, sitting up in bed in shock. This was something new, he immediately thought, and then swore internally – he'd have to risk sending another Patronus to Mr. White, and risk questioning from the Lawyer as to how he'd chanced upon a wand.

He couldn't feel gratified, as well, that his plan had paid such brilliant dividends...had it not been for his serpent spy, the Hearing tomorrow could have gone disastrously.

"_Anything else?" _he hissed.

"_One final thing, master. A wizard came, master, to Fudge's office, with Golden hair. He charmed the Minister, and told him to reduce security around some prison effective immediately, and left. It seems my charge is double crossing his master, and works for this wizard instead."_

Another shocker, thought Harry. Dawlish, a Death Eater? The wizard in question had to be Lucius Malfoy, he was sure of it.

"_If that's all?"_ he asked, and when the Snake nodded, he promptly thanked it and vanished it, before setting out composing another Patronus message to send to his lawyer.

Seeing Prongs race out of his wand again, he sat back down on his bed.

His scar was already throbbing slightly, and the slight sense of anticipation within him was building, building steadily and surely.

For a terrible second, he couldn't help but wonder whose anticipation it was – His or Voldemort's. Disgusted as he was by the Dark Lord, he couldn't help but acknowledge that some of Riddle's feats were truly worthy of awe.

And his mind immediately went back four years, to Ollivander's words to Harry..._"He did great things, Mr. Potter – terrible, but great, indeed..."_

He pushed the thought roughly away, and instead took his wand out of his bag and cast a _Colloportus_ charm on the closed door, magically sealing it shut. Pulling a thick book out of his back, he opened it upon the table, and started looking up Charms from beyond the Hogwarts curriculum.

He chose one that looked interesting, and started reading up on the Carpe Retractum charm. Used mostly to pull rocks or trees out of blockages and landslides, it could also pull the user to any object, should he wish it – it was all based on intent.

He sighed in frustration. It was a waste of a spell, he thought, when he easily could have vanished any objects in his path, or lifted them with the Wingardium Leviosa charm. On the other hand, he was intrigued by the second part of the spell, which allowed the user to pull himself towards any object.

Pulling his wand out, he quickly went over the movements for the spell, and the correct pronunciation and execution. With two backwards and then a forward jab of his wand, he said, "Carpe Retractum!"

Almost instantenously, a long, thin purple rope with a pointed end shot out of his wand, and embedded itself into the wall before him. Immediately, he felt a force pulling at him, and instead of pulling back, he surrendered to the force. Which led him to crash spectacularly against the wall, while hitting the table on his way to it.

Cupping his manhood with one hand, and his face with the other, he curled up on the floor, trying not to cry out in pain.

_Bugger and blust and fuck it all to hell!_

Standing up, and gasping for breath, he angrily limped over to his bed before throwing his wand in disgust into his bag. He found no pleasure in mastering such minor charms on his first try, but it was rare for his attempts to have such brilliant failures.

_And there's a crazed Dark Lord after me, in fact, I'm pretty sure that I'll have to end up being the one to defeat him –_ he thought.

He held no illusions as to what the contents of the mysterious prophecy could be – he had got thinking as soon as Sirius had pulled him aside the night before and told him that the other main task of the Order was to guard this prophecy, which lay in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry.

After all these years it was obvious – most probably, it would fall to him to destroy Voldemort, but he needed to get his hands on it anyway, just to be sure.

He hoped against hope, however, that it would help him with the secret to destroying Voldemort – tell him some way to gain power, or remove Voldemort's, because he knew he stood no chance otherwise. He knew that he was powerful, already a head and shoulder above most average wizards, but Voldemort was another matter entirely – both in terms of power and skill.

The biggest problem that he would face would be the layout of the Department of Mysteries – something that nobody except the Unspeakables knew – and it was a secret they carried to their graves. All he knew from his reading was that it was on the lowest floor the lift would take him, and the door to it lay right next to the narrow staircase that led down to the Dungeons where his hearing would take place tomorrow.

Getting even angrier, he punched the wall with his fist, and regretted it immediately. Cradling his smarting hand, he cursed viciously. Why couldn't _anything be _easy in his life?!

The pressure in his head was building, but he brushed it apart, and jumped into his bed, looking mutely up at the ceiling.

For the first time, he felt doubt enter him, gnawing away at his insides. What if he failed? What if he ended up no match for Voldemort?

He had no misgivings about his own power – he was far ahead of the Hogwarts curriculum, maybe even beyond NEWT level in the core wand wielding core subjects, but he was still woefully inadequate when it came to the other arcane arts Voldemort was so good at. He'd seen the Dark Lord push aside bodies with only a sweep of his hand, cast spells that went even beyond non-verbal magic, literally sense the magic around him. Besides, his skill would only work in warzones – as much as he hated to say it, he'd skipped some spells entirely, thinking them to be worthless. One such example would be the Aguamenti spell he'd used in his last fight – having already mastered the _Aqua Eructo _charm, he saw no use in learning another, less effective spell. Only later had he realised that he couldn't safely use the spell on somebody else without knocking them over, such as Tonks on her broomstick.

So in the end, what good was he, Harry Potter, next to Voldemort?

_Time, _he thought, _he needed more time!_

But there was none to spare, and for once, he succumbed to despair, looking desolately at the ceiling, and wondering what would become of him – even though he appeared confident in front of others, all the time, he wasn't sure of his own chances of survival.

_And he could never let these doubts show,_ he thought, _for that was the curse of the leaders._

Because he had no illusions that he would end up being one of the leaders in the coming war.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HPHPHPHPHP**

**11****th**** August 1995**

**8:00 pm**

**Ministry of Magic, London**

Harry's eyes shot open – he'd fallen asleep out of lethargy again. There was an insistent rapping sound on the door. Cradling his aching scar, he jumped out of bed, and opened the door, only to find himself face to face with undoubtedly the ugliest woman he had ever seen.

Pouchy bags underneath her small eyes, a rather squashed face, a completely pink attire – even a pink bow atop her head, Harry could understand why she'd been referred to as the 'Toad Woman'.

When she spoke, he found himself disgusted by her high-pitched, girly voice.

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I'm Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?"

He knew he should have acknowledged her words and greeted her in return, but he found himself doing nothing of the sort. Instead, he just opened the door and stood to the side.

Pursing her lips slightly, she walked into the room, her shoes making a clattering sound on the floor. She cast a critical eye over the room, and then turned, gesturing towards the two burly Aurors who had followed her into the room.

"Extra protection, you must understand," she said, simpering. "Just in case things get..._ugly._"

He'd only just met the woman, and Harry found himself disliking her intensely.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," she indicated an empty chair, taking the chair opposite to it at the table. He complied without any words, and struggled not to raise his eyebrows when the two bodyguards situated themselves on either side of her and glared at him.

"Now, Mr. Potter, you've been a very bad boy, haven't you?" she asked coyly.

Harry felt his jaw go slack in disbelief – she was talking to him like he was a little _child!_

At the same time, his scar gave a powerful throb, and he somehow managed to hold back a gasp.

Umbridge must have noticed his discomfort, and promptly mistaken it for something else, because she gave a tiny grin at him.

He set his jaw and looked her straight in the eye defiantly. And suddenly he found himself in completely alien settings.

_He was sitting opposite a hooded man in a dark, dank cell, decorated only by a table and a hard chair. "You must send the Dementors to the Little Whinging area," he said, his voice high pitched and girly. "The Potter boy is a threat, and must be dealt with as such."_

"_It will be done, Madam Umbridge," said the man in the hood, and he could make out the barest of grins underneath the black cloth. "And that will be 800 galleons for a job well done – half before, and the rest after my work is done."_

"_Very well, Warden Smith. I look forward to it," she said, with a little laugh, and then she stood, and smartly made her way out of the room, leaving the Warden to rub his gnarled hands together in anticipation._

And the scene dissolved, and he suddenly found himself looking at the face, which he was now positive he absolutely loathed.

"Mr. Potter, are you quite alright?" Umbridge, he found, looked quite unnerved. It gave him no small amount of satisfaction.

He grit his teeth. "Absolutely spiffing," he said. "Madam, if you would kindly leave the room? I believe you and I have nothing to talk about. In fact, I'd like to recall my lawyer –"

"Mr. Potter?" she asked, the surprise evident in her voice. "Perhaps I misheard –"

"You heard just fine, Madam! Please leave my room at once, before I exercise my rights as a citizen and have you forcibly removed!"

"How dare you? We could come to an arrangement –"

Harry was perilously close to losing his temper. "Madam, I assure you, I know that what you speak of is impossible for you. You may work for the Minister, but in the end, you are a Secretary. I do not believe that the Secretaries in the Ministry have any power whatsoever, legislative, executive or judiciary, so I will ask you to leave one final time!"

"I have your wand –"

"That's good for you, then, because I'll have it back with me by tomorrow. Now LEAVE!" the last word was shouted with force, and layered with magic enough to make both Umbridge and her Aurors cower a bit. He was losing control of his magic, and he tamped down desperately on it, and at the same time, his scar flashed red-hot again.

Umbridge huffed – albeit a bit weakly – before lifting her chin and walking out of the room, her two Aurors following her.

Harry immediately made his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his scar, which was now red and angry-looking. Taking a deep breath, he tried to figure out what had happened.

His scar had pained, and he had suddenly...looked into Umbridge's mind? His heart was pounding – was this another of Voldemort's powers which he seemed to manifest, like his Parseltongue?

At any rate, there was no denying what he had seen. That ugly, foul woman had been the one who had ordered the attack on Harry.

He hurried out, to where Stevens was still guarding the room.

"Auror Stevens," he said, drawing the attention of his guard, "if you would kindly contact my lawyer once again? Something important has come up, and I believe it must be brought to his attention at once."

Even as he left the startled Auror to do the work and went back into his room, Harry couldn't help but grin. At least this case was shut and done with, even before it had begun.

One hour later, a stunned Mr. White was back in his room, staring at him open-mouthed.

"So you mean to tell me that you suddenly, inexplicably looked into Umbridge's mind, and came across this memory? How do you think that happened?"

"Well," said Harry, rubbing his scar, "I suppose it's puberty and all – sometimes your magic goes out of control, y'know?"

"Right," said the Lawyer sceptically, "and you suddenly find yourself gazing into the minds of people? So tell me Harry, what am I thinking right now?"

"Er..." he said, "probably that you really don't want an explanation?"

Mr. White sighed, but said, "Very well," anyway. His eyes still roved over Harry's scar though, and he asked, "You want to get that looked at?" he asked.

"No thanks, I'm fine," said Harry. "Can we get this over with, because I'd really like to lie down," he said.

"Sure, Harry," said Mr. White. "Now, what was the name of the Warden, can you remember?"

"Warden...Smith, I believe," said Harry, fiercely trying to remember every detail of his sudden foray into the realm of mind-gazing.

"Right," said Mr. White. "Right, I'll go and look into it at once. I believe that any hope the Ministry had of successfully expelling you just vanished. In fact, Fudge's popularity will probably be taking a nosedive tomorrow," said the lawyer.

Harry nodded, and he barely had time to say goodbye to the lawyer and close the door on his back, before he collapsed on his bed, surrendering to flashes of Voldemort's night.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Harry waited desolately outside the doors of Courtroom 10, waiting for the clock to strike seven. He knew he probably looked terrible, having spent half the night tossing and turning on his bed, at the mercy of his visions.

He was beginning to hate this connection, but at that moment, he hated someone else even – all the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Despite his warning, the Order had done nothing to protect Azkaban. Hundreds of short term prisoners had been killed – more specifically, those who had rejected Voldemort's offers to join them. But on the other hand, Voldemort's forces had grown stronger as well – and now consisted of several murderers and thugs along with his original Death Eaters.

Despite being in front of his guards – who, he'd grimly noticed, had been quite surprised to find him ready and waiting at six-thirty – he couldn't suppress a mild shiver.

He'd had his first true glimpse of Bellatrix Lestrange last night, and for the first time, he'd truly appreciated why the Death Eaters were so feared. Despite being starved and held in captivity for nearly a decade and a half, the witch had only needed to be handed a wand by her master, before she blew apart half of the upper side of the tower in sheer glee.

He wasn't sure, though, what repulsed him more. Her sheer insanity, or her obvious, bordering on fanatical affection for her Dark Lord.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his watch chimed, and he quickly gathered himself, before pulling himself up to full height, raising his chin, and looking haughtily handsome, as he had been taught.

Giving no inch to anyone with his attitude, he sharply threw the door open, and _strutted_ into the Hall like he owned the bloody place – another of Sirius' teachings.

Fudge was conversing with an ancient witch to his left, "...mark my words, he'll be late!" and Harry smirked when he jumped on noticing Harry.

Mr. White was ready and waiting by the platform in the centre, his eyes offering encouragement.

He dumped his bag on a lone empty bench in one corner, before walking smartly up to the centre, and onto the platform, he inclined his head, and said, "Ladies and lords of the Wizengamot –"

Some of them inclined their heads in return, with looks of approval on their faces, while others looked rather shocked at both his appearance and behaviour. Quickly taking in all of their faces, he straightened and then sat down on the chair, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers, looking intently up at Fudge.

After a few moments, he raised his eyebrows. "Well, Minister, if we may begin?" asked Mr. White. Harry's lips twitched as several Wizengamot members scowled – White's job did make him unpopular amongst some people.

"Ah, yes," said Fudge, seeming to regain his train of thought – obviously trying to reconcile the boy he'd seen only three months back, with the one before him. "Are you ready?" he called down the row, and Harry zeroed his gaze in on Percy Weasley at the very end of the front bench, but did nothing otherwise.

"Disciplinary hearing on the Twelfth of August," said Fudge, his voice ringing out in the hall. Percy began taking notes at one, "into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by –"

Mr. White coughed mildly, and Harry barely held back a grin. This was about to get interesting.

Fudge turned a shade of purple rapidly, before asking rudely, "Yes?"

"Minister, I do believe you are mistaken in your charges," said Mr. White coolly, "I believe you should be looking into the direct attempt at manslaughter on my client instead."

Utter silence reigned in the Hall, and Harry took great delight in taking in every thunderstruck face in the Hall.

Fudge blustered about for a second, before theatrically saying, "Aha! So this is the latest conspiracy theory you have managed to come up with, Potter?! Manslaughter now, after Basilisks and Dark Lords and whatever other lies you have been spreading amongst the public –"

"Minister Fudge!" said Harry angrily, letting his magic let go for a second. Fudge shrank back reflexively, before Harry continued, his voice carrying all over the hall. "I would ask you to cease immediately. I have neither given any interviews, or any statements to the public before, and thus your words are nothing but slander and lies!"

"But Dumbledore –"

"I assure you, Minister, I am not Dumbledore, as you can very well see! It is best for you to keep silent regarding this, lest I _do_ take this matter public."

Fudge paled and clammed up immediately, while some people in the Hall grinned.

Most notably an ancient witch in one corner, with a vulture topped hat, who could already see shades of her old friend Charlus Potter in the arrogant, but undoubtedly powerful teen in front of her.

_What an interesting matter,_ she thought,_ that he should be so much more different then how Neville has described him, or I have seen in his photographs._ But she lay the matter to rest, as Amelia Bones spoke out.

"Very well, the Wizengamot apologises and retracts it previous statements. Barbs at the accused will not be tolerated any further. Let this Trial continue without any delays –"

"Excuse me, Madam Bones, but did you just say Trial?"

"Indeed I did, Mr. Potter," said the witch, a bit irately. "Are you in need of a hearing aid?"

"Of course not, Madam Bones, but I thought the prerequisite for a trial was a preliminary investigation into the matter. I was not enlightened of any such matter, and I would like a moment to go through the results of the investigation and then resume. Surely that is within my rights?"

"Of course," said Madam Bones in a clipped tone. Now that he saw more closely, she looked quite haggard, and in fact, so did several other members of the Wizengamot – obviously after-effects of the attack last night. "Be quick, Minister, and hand the files over to Potter. I want this over and done with –"

Fudge paled. "Minister?" asked Bones again, the irritation evident in her voice now.

Fudge leaned over and whispered something furiously to her, and Madam Bones exploded.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE WAS NO INVESTIGATION?!"

Fudge mumbled something incoherent, but she kept on yelling.

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS, CORNELIUS! AZKABAN WAS BROKEN INTO LAST EVENING, AND I SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT AWAKE, AND ONLY CAME TO THIS FARCE OF A HEARING AT YOUR BEHEST! I REFUSE TO TOLERATE THIS INSANITY ANY MORE!"

"Mr. Potter," she said, taking a deep breath and turning to him, her face red. "We apologise for this inconvenience. It seems," she said, taking another long breath and grimacing, "that this Hearing is nothing but a waste of time. You are free to go, cleared on account of a technicality, and a proper investigation will be launched into your case. Also, the Ministry will be paying you a small fee to reimburse you for your time spent here on no grounds whatsoever –"

"But he did underage magic –"

"In a situation that was unknown to us, Cornelius! The case is closed, and I suggest you take a moment to stop and think, because you are on serious thin ice!"

Harry interjected here. "Madam Bones, if I may interrupt?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I believe I heard you say that Azkaban has been broken into?"

She sighed again. "That is correct, Mr. Potter. The entire prison has been swept clean."

"Well," he said with a small smile, the cogs spinning blazingly fast inside his head, "In that case, I would like to ask a small wish from my Elders in the Wizengamot, as the last scion of the Brave and Ancient House of Potter."

Several members sighed. They would have liked nothing better to desert this entire matter and go on to the Emergency meeting that was bound to happen, but once Harry had tacked on that title to his name, they couldn't avoid his request.

"Very well, Mr. Potter, let us have this quickly."

"Of course, Madam. My requests are twofold and simple. Firstly, I would like to remind the Wizengamot that it was the Potter family, and if I may be so immodest, myself who effectively ended the first Wizarding War –"

"Enough with the bragging boy, let us have it already!"

"Yes, Lord Whitehart," and the old man raised his eyebrows, impressed, that the boy knew his politics well.

Harry continued. "As such, the escapees of the prison will undoubtedly come after me to exact revenge. Since I am the last of my line, my death at their hand would mean the extinction of one of the Ancient Lines. As such, I would like your permission to be exempt from attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year, until I see fit, or until the DMLE has capably rounded up all the Death Eaters," he finished with a short bow towards Madam Bones, all the while praying desperately. If he pulled this off, he'd have both the time and the place to train, away from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. "I will be studying for my OWLs at a safe location, with the help of tutors, and will be sitting for the examinations at the end of the school year, as is tradition."

There was silence for a moment, before Lord Whitehart spoke again. "That...is a rather reasonable request," he said gruffly. "I'd try to hide myself if I were you as well, boy."

"Mr. Potter," said another stately looking witch. "Hogwarts is probably the best warded building in the country after Gringotts. Surely you would be better off there?"

"Madam," Harry said with a bow. "I confess that my fate in Hogwarts has been shaken. My third year," he grimaced inwardly, but continued, "when Sirius Black escaped Azkaban prison, he was successfully able to infiltrate the castle. Since the Azkaban breakout has repeated itself, surely there is a chance that the infiltration of the castle can happen again – a chance I am unwilling to take."

"Hogwarts offers premier education," said another, "unmatched by any other school in the country."

"Be that as it may," replied Harry, "there are other, qualified tutors as well, and I am sure I will manage to get by for some time."

"It may take a long time for the Ministry to round up the prisoners, Mr. Potter," Augusta Longbottom finally spoke up, "do you plan to remain in hiding all that while, Mr. Potter? I believe this idea should be overruled, Mr. Potter. Hogwarts will keep you safe, and I am sure the Ministry will afford the school extra protection."

A murmur of assent went around the hall, and Harry knew his case was lost.

"It seems that my request has been rejected," he said, "and I accept, gracefully. Moving on, then, I – "

"However," said Mrs. Longbottom, "I believe that as a special case and a hero of the First War, Mr. Potter be allowed use of his wand in case of attack by any hostile parties."

Murmurs went around the Hall, but Harry's heart skipped a beat. This may not have been what he was asking for, but he would take this readily as well.

"I urge you to consider this – Mr. Potter is not only the Saviour of the First War, but also a symbol for the Magical Community of Britain as the Boy-Who-Lived – his demise would be unwelcome."

Once more, Harry was struck by the power he wielded in Britain.

"All those in favour?" she asked. Harry waited with baited breath.

Over half the hands in the hall went up, albeit some reluctantly. Another middle-aged witch stood up on one side of the hall.

"I believe the motion has passed," she said, "and I also believe that Mr. Potter was never truly thanked for his defeat of the Dark Lord. I for one, confess myself a fan of the Boy-Who-Lived." Slowly, she started clapping, and in a few seconds, the Hall was filled with the roar of thunderous clapping.

Harry bowed deeply, and looked up to find Fudge and his cronies with disgusted looks on their faces. He smirked, slowly realising something – that despite opposition from some members of the Ministry, he was still looked upon as a Hero by the majority of the Wizarding Community.

Maybe he'd have to start replying to some of his fan mail now, then.

"Very well," said Madam Bones, "you will report to the DMLE after this is over and have the charms removed from your wand. Auror Robards," she said, motioning to an Auror near the doorway, will accompany you there. Now, you were speaking of something else?"

"Thank you, Madam Bones," he said with a bow. "Yes, my next topic is a bit more grave. Once more, as the last scion of the House of Potter, I accuse Dolores Jane Umbridge of plotting to kill the last surviving member of an Ancient House.

Gasps rang out around the Hall, and Umbridge turned an ugly shade of puce.

Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Those are serious accusations, Mr. Potter. Do you have any proof?"

"I believe I will be of assistance here," said Mr. White with a bow. "May I call into the Courtroom, Warden Smith of Azkaban, who was taken into custody yesterday evening shortly before the attacks, luckily?"

Madam Bones nodded, and the Aurors went outside to fetch the man.

"This is unbelievable, Madam Bones!" said Umbridge in her girlish voice. "The Potter boy is out of control, he must be properly punished!"

"I would advise you to remain silent, Madam Umbridge," replied Madam Bones. "I assure you, if Potter's accusation is baseless, he _will_ be properly punished."

"But – but –" stuttered the Toad-Like woman, and several people smirked – Umbridge was widely disliked in the Ministry.

"I am afraid I am not feeling very well," she said suddenly, her voice breathy. "If I may be excused?" she said, already getting up and walking down.

"Dolores!" shouted Madam Bones, "remain in your seat, you are already acting very suspiciously!"

"I am rather ill –" continued Umbridge, convincing absolutely nobody. "Perhaps –"

The Aurors were already moving in on her, and suddenly she lost all control and pulled her wand on Bones. She was disarmed within seconds, however, by both Aurors.

"Cornelius!" she screamed, her eyes wild. "You have to believe me, I did it for your good! The Potter boy had to be neautralised – the Dementors were the best choice!"

Silence fell in the Hall again, and this time, Harry did grin. All the drama was already making up for the terrible night he'd had.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HP**

Harry walked out of the DMLE, whistling cheerily, his pocket 200 Galleons heavier, and completely free of the Trace. It had been a simple matter to switch the wand up his sleeve with the fake one Madam Bones had handed him back, and then have the spells removed on it.

He did a small jig in the hallway, reminiscing about the look on Umbridge and Smith's faces when they'd been dragged away by the Aurors.

He doubted they'd be sent to Azkaban – even though the Dementors were still there, he knew it was still a farce. Voldemort had clearly commanded them last night, and they were at Azkaban only until the Dark Lord declared himself openly. Moreover, the prison was now obviously defunct, and the Ministry would have to seek out someplace else to keep its Prisoners.

That was, however, not his headache. Checking his watch, he saw it was twenty to nine. Still deciding what to do, he finally settled upon throwing all caution to hell and doing some snooping.

He found himself stuck at the Atrium, though. Where it was moderately empty in the morning, it was now filled with a mass of screaming and shouting people, who had no doubt heard that Azkaban had been broken into.

"Mr. Potter! Harry!" he was suddenly beset upon on all sides by reporters, and at the same time, another head in the crowd turned towards him.

Harry groaned as Dumbledore made his way over to him, and he could barely manage a "No Comment," before he felt the old man's hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," said the old wizard, "what are you doing here? We must make your way to the hearing!"

"Yes sir," he replied thinking fast. "But I was supposed to stop by the Office for the Statute of Secrecy first, and I completely lost my way."

Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry fought down the urge to punch his already broken nose.

"Quite understandable, my boy," he said. "After all, this is your first time here. The office is on the third floor, I will make my way to the Courtroom and then send someone to accompany you down there once you are done."

Harry nodded coolly and made his way over to the lift, followed by Dumbledore. The crowd parted before the two Wizards, and he was soon standing on the third floor, grinning madly as he imagined the look on Dumbledore's face when he learnt of Harry's prank. But now, he had to act fast.

He took the lift down once more, and a few minutes later, he was standing before the door to the Department of Mysteries. The entire corridor behind him was empty, but he still couldn't shake off the eerie feeling that he was being watched.

A strange trepidation welled up inside him, as he pushed the door open and made his way inside.

He was standing in a completely circular, pitch black room, with black walls and black doors with no handles. Torches hung from the wall, their flames burning a pale blue colour. The cool shimmering light reflecting on the shining marble floor made it look like there was dark water underfoot.

He closed the door and immediately regretted it. The entire place grew dark, the only light the tiny candles on the wall. He was suddenly seized by irrational fear – what if he was caught here? What if there was someone already here?

Calming himself forcefully, he cursed before putting a Disillusionment Charm on him. He regretted not having thought of it earlier, and he immediately missed his Invisibility Cloak – the protection it offered was unparalleled.

Suddenly, a cool female voice rang out, making him jump. "Unspeakable Lily Potter, recognized."

Harry's heart jumped in his throat. What was going on? Nervously shouldering his bag again, he walked forward slightly, wincing as his shoes clattered on the floor.

As soon as he had stepped forward, though, there was a grinding noise, and the candles shifted to their right. The circular wall was rotating. The blue flames began to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around, and suddenly, as the rumbling stopped again, leaving everything completely stationary.

Harry's eyes had blue streaks burned into them, it was all he could see for a few seconds before he shook himself. He looked around in despair, and his heart fell. He was trapped, with no idea of the way out.

Having no choice, he walked forward and pushed on a door. Nothing happened. Taking his wand out, he said, "Alohomora!" The door remain shut.

The panic rose in him like a tidal wave now. What if all doors had been locked like this?

Sweating bullets now, he tried his Keystone Portkey. _"Activate!"_ he hissed. His stomach plummeted as nothing happened.

Almost close to tears in desperation now, he lost his head and shouted, "How do I find my way out?!"

The silence, if anything, seemed to grow even heavier.

And then, a muffled scream, followed by silence. A door swung open, and a heavy voice called out. "Who's there?" sharply. "This place is supposed to be empty today!"

Harry recognized the voice immediately. Augustus Rookwood – Death Eater, and participant in last night's raid.

Rookwood walked out, and Harry could make out a dimly lit room behind him. He held his breath as the man narrowed his eyes, staring at his direction unnervingly for a very long time. Rookwood was powerful, he had no illusions – he had to be, to be an Unspeakable.

He almost sighed in relief when Rookwood turned. Suddenly, the man turned and Harry was forced to dive out of the way of the spell.

He pulled out his wand and took aim immediately.

"Nice try, intruder, but magic sensing is basic training for Unspeakables." When nobody replied, Rookwood continued. "Is it one of Dumbledore's pet, guarding the Prophecy? You shouldn't stand exactly in front of that door, you know? It gives you away!"

Harry was ready for the spell that came his way this time, and he conjured a hasty shield, and at the same time, he used his wand to make a small 'X' in midair before the door.

Rookwood laughed derisively. "What? You didn't even know where the thing you were guarding was?! Show yourself, and let me kill you properly, you idiot!"

Harry wasted no time. He shouted, "Stupefy!" which Rookwood blocked immediately, before sending another return stunner at him. There was another scream from the room behind him, and this time, Harry distinctly recognized a female voice.

"She's dying in there, y'know?" said Rookwood with a sneer. "She'll be dead in two minutes. You might want to work fast – she's quite important, too!"

Harry made up his mind immediately. Inwardly rolling his eyes, this technique was getting old really fast; he quickly pulled a part of his Portkey out of his pocket. Even though it wouldn't transport him, it still had other uses.

Tossing it in the air at Rookwood, who was momentarily surprised, he shouted, "Bombarda Maxima!"

The resulting explosion knocked Rookwood off his feet and straight into the wall. For good measure, Harry tied and bound him, before stunning him as well, just in case.

Hurrying into the room Rookwood had just vacated, he stopped short.

The room was completely bare, bathed with golden light from torches, except for a stone table in the centre, with curious markings along the edges. It was not the table which caught his attention, though.

Lying naked on the table, bound with chains, and writhing in desperation, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP **

**Author's Note: Well, there you have it. Explanations to Harry's scar, a small fight, a way to remove the trace, and my first major OC. Ta–da!**

**Edit: By an overwhelming majority, this story remains solely Harry/Ginny. However, this is a long term romance, and they will take time to get together - maybe even book 6. Let's face it, ''best friends'' remain best friends for a long time until someone bangs their heads together, so they _will_ also date other people before each other. I don't want them getting together, and Harry training Ginny - they should find their own way, their own inspirations!**

**Hey, that rhymed!**

**Till next time, **

**IamtheMasterofDeath. (Previously IamDRCaPottermaniac.)**

**PS: Any ideas about Ron, anyone? Redemption, or a spiral into...THE DARK SIDE! *cue Star Wars music***


	7. When Harry Met Calli

**Author's Note: Gah, CHANGED MY MIND AGAIN! I just went through my notes, and realized that pairing Harry with an OC would leave a GIGANTIC plot hole, forcing me to rethink nearly half of sixth and seventh year. Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit! I'm getting fed up of this relationship shit! You know what, I will put up a freaking poll! YOU vote and tell me. Now if somebody would tell me how to set a damn poll up?!**

**I don't know who He'll end up with, the only constant is Ginny, when the story ends, she WILL be with him. Kill me now :'(**

**Disclaimer: JKR, you know you own it all!**

**Chapter 7: When Harry Met Calli**

His breath hitched, and he stared unabashedly for a few seconds, unable to tear his eyes away, as he walked slowly into the room.

She was bathed in sweat, probably from harsh torture, and her chest was rising and falling heavily, her long breaths filling the room. His eyes followed the generous swell of her breasts, the pink nubs at the top, and carried on down south, until he found the thatch of raven hair just above her-

Taking a loud gulp, he tore his eyes away, even though he wanted to continue down to her legs, and never tear them away. He neared, and bile rose in his throat as he saw her stomach – someone had carved runes on it with a knife, and trails and rivulets of blood spread all over her, while ugly scars marked her perfect frame.

"Well?!" she spat suddenly, but he was still taken by the musical lilt of her voice. "If you're done taking in an eyeful, if you could kindly prevent my death now?"

Shocked, he looked up, and saw her beautiful face, and her violet eyes, framed by a waterfall of black hair that splayed around her head. She was _gorgeous,_ and looked as if she was in her early twenties. Even Fleur seemed to pale in comparison next to her – yet she was just like Fleur – she had an otherworldly beauty about her, and he instinctively knew that whatever she was, she wasn't human. Her eyes were large and her lips cherry red, and set into an angry frown.

"R-right," he said, unable to prevent his voice from stuttering. He raised his wand, "Relashio!"

The chains binding her fell apart at once, and she flexed her wrists, sitting up.

"Right," she said, "I have around one minute and thirty seven more seconds to go before the runes knock me out. _Come here, kid,"_ the last part was said in a low, sultry voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine. Almost of his own accord, his feet started moving, and he was standing next to her.

"Can you cast a Patronus?" she asked, her lips curving into a smile, one that contained promises of untold possibilities, and he nodded, almost eagerly. "Good," she said, "now, I want you to think very, very _hard_ on the good memories you use to fuel your Patroni."

Unwilling to close his eyes in front of a total stranger, he complied nevertheless, thinking of his euphoria of winning the Quidditch Cup in his third year, even though he could not keep out other..._questionable_ thoughts out of his brain for that matter.

"Well that won't do..." she pouted, and he felt his heart melt. She leant forward, her lips brushing his ear, and whispered, "now that's not _hard_ enough, is it?"

A certain part of his anatomy hardened faster than he thought possible at the feel of her cool breath on his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut without any hesitation. The thoughts running through his head weren't exactly happy - ecstatic was more close to it, he felt he could cast a Patronus the size of a boat with thoughts like them. "That's better," she whispered.

And the next second, his brain seemed to explode inside his head and seep out of his ears, as he felt the softest pairs of lips imaginable on his. She kissed him long and deep, her arms coming up to lock around his neck, and he complied, his own hands running up and down his back. He felt, rather than saw her large breasts against his chest, and he pushed her harder to him, grinding his crotch inexpertly, but desperately against her. He felt a slight pressure against his head, but paid no heed, and his arms roamed further south, until his hands found their first piece of bare naked arse.

He, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who'd-Grown-Up-In-A-Cupboard, was gripping the creamiest, softest arse ever, of the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. Take that, Harry hunting group!

His magic flared suddenly, and she gave a long, sexy moan, sending currents of pleasure through him. The kiss became more animalistic, and the pressure on his head increased, and his arms slid upwards to rest on her breasts, feeling the contours of her chest, and thumbing her nipples, while he kneaded the left one, without even thinking.

It was pure, raw animalistic thinking, and he was giving into the basest instincts of his body. He was suddenly seized by a desire to use Parseltongue on those beautiful hard nipples, and watch her wreathe in pleasure under him, till he continued down south with his swirling, hissing tongue to...

"Wait," he said, pulling away with the greatest force of will he had ever used, "you're injured, dying –"

He saw her eyes widen in surprise at his words. "That's what you're worried about?" she asked incredulously. "Are you gay?" she asked bluntly.

The sound of a million harps that seemed to be playing an ethereal harmony behind him ground to a sudden halt, and he blustered, "W-what?! No! I mean, NO!"

"With kissing abilities like that," she said cheerfully, "it'd be a shame if you were," making him blush.

With a squelching sound, he felt something be removed from his head, and with shock, he beheld a flower like opening that closed into a bud before his eyes. He followed the thin strip behind it, right back to the butt he had been grabbing like a man possessed a few minutes back.

He stopped short, realizing it was her _tail_. Mindful of his eyes on it, she brought it close to her mouth, and opened the bud slightly. Her pink tongue flitted out, tasting the opening. "Mmmm," she said appreciatively, her eyes closing, "Powerful, indeed."

He felt that his penis could not be getting any harder. Sadly, he was mistaken – that was amongst the most erotic thing he had seen in his life. It was definitely second on his list, right below seeing a naked, buxom woman naked before him with chains around her wrists – he carefully edited the knife marks on her stomach out.

She sat straighter on the dais, seeming suddenly cheerful. "Well, I'm all healed up!" she squealed cheerfully, "_Thank _you!"

And without warning, his head was pulled into the valley between her breasts as she gave him a giant hug – he swore he could feel a trickle of blood coming out of his nose.

He was being suffocated after a few seconds, but he paid no heed – _what a way to go_, he thought. Sadly, though, she pushed his head away at the last second, grinning widely.

"Thank _you_!" he said fervently, and she giggled.

"Well, aren't you darling?" she giggled, as she stood up, and he saw that indeed her stomach was completely healed. Her eyes suddenly widened again when they fell upon his scar.

"Wow," she breathed, "you're Harry Potter! I just came to know about you! You're a hero!"

"That's me, at your service," he said, "I'd shake your hand, but after what just happened, I think that'd be quite anticlimactic. How about we just do that again?" he could not believe what he was saying, but something about this woman...well, he'd never imagined the day when he would be flirting with a woman who looked that much older than him.

"Aren't you the charmer?" she said with a laugh. And without preamble, she bent down and kissed him again, leaving him with a goofy smile when she pulled away. "I can't believe that I kissed _Harry_ _Potter!"_ she giggled again.

Normally, he'd be put off by such behaviour, but it seemed fine coming from her. "Maybe you'd do it again and again until you finally believed it?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed again. "Now, now, Harry, you know what they say about too much of a good thing..."

"Too much of a good thing is better when you're making out with an absurdly hot stranger you just met on her deathbed and then made out with?" his eyes widened, at what he'd just said.

"That'd be my effect," she said with another giggle, and he found himself enjoying the sound very much. "And, oh, where are my manners?" she said, "I'm Callida, last of the Succubi! You can call me Calli!"

"Succubi?" he asked, before he could stop himself. Well, that explained the tail, and the extreme beauty. "But they're extinct!"

Her eyes seemed to shadow over for a second, and he kicked himself. "I'm sorry," he said, and indeed he was. And then, before he could stop himself, he asked again, "but the last Succubus passed away 800 years ago!"

"Indeed," she said, sadness seeping into her voice. "In fact," she said, her eyes lighting up in mischief, "I'm sadly an 800 year old virgin," she said, and he almost choked on his own tongue. Leaning into him again, she whispered, "maybe you're willing to change that?"

"I'm 15!" he blurted out suddenly, and then cursed himself. _Smooth, Potter, smooth!_

"And I'm 815 years old," she said with a grin. "What's a few years between friends?"

_815?_ "But why wouldn't people have sex with _you_?!" he blurted out again, before muttering, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation..."

She laughed again. "I said I've never had sex, but I meant it physically, not mentally. Tell me, what do you know of Succubi?"

He blushed, not really wanting to repeat what he'd read. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, "Ah, I see. The Ministry hasn't been kind to us, have they? Well, thanks to this," she said, lifting up her tail, "I've been in the minds of plenty of men, and have had raunchy, sweaty sex several times. But the actual sex...that right goes to my _Chosen One..._"

The word sent shivers down his spine again, and he cast around for something to say.

"You don't look 800," he observed.

She laughed again. "Why thank you!" she said, her tail coming up to run over his cheeks. "That's sweet of you to say! Succubi don't age until they've bonded, and even then, they age very slowly. Besides, I always believed in growing up, not growing old."

Even so, she was eight hundred years old.

"Only in years," she said with a laugh, "do I look 800?" she asked pouting, turning around and preening herself before him. His eyes almost bugged out as he took her in fully –

"Wait," he said suddenly, "you read my mind!"

"Not your mind," she said, "your _soul_." Her voice lost its cheer again, and the conversation suddenly felt hollow.

"Er," he said, not wanting to push right now, "you're naked," he said observantly.

"Would you rather I be clothed?" she asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He shook his head fervently before smacking himself, "We need to get going," he said, "we can't hang around for long."

He flicked his wand, and clothes appeared next to her. He blushed as he noticed the extremely tiny black cocktail dress he'd conjured, but she squealed in delight, clapping her hands together, and kissing him on the cheek, making him blush further.

He couldn't help but be struck by how _fey_ she was, happy one second, sad the next. He couldn't do anything about it right now, they didn't have the luxury of time, he was realising. Even though he was curious as to why the Dark Lord, or the Death Eaters needed her, but he could ask her later, after they got out of the Ministry.

She dressed quickly, and he pretended not to be sad that she was not clothed.

"Lead on, my hero," she said, latching onto his arms, and placing it snugly between her cleavage, which seemed to be spilling out of her dress, anyway. His face turned beetroot red.

"Could you not do that?" he asked, flustered.

Her smile dropped. "Don't you like it?" she asked, making large puppy-dog eyes up at him.

"I do, I do, very much," he backtracked, and then smacked himself again, as she laughed, and he realised he'd been had.

"Where would be the fun in that, Harry Potter?" she asked with a laugh. He gave it up as a bad job, but did not complain.

He did feel a vindictive pleasure in knocking Rookwood out again with a Stunner, just to be safe. Anyone who'd hurt someone as beautiful as Callida deserved to be hurt much, much worse.

He then pointed his wand at the Death Eater again, and said, "Obliviate!" His wand twisted anti-clockwise in his hand, and he let out a breath, knowing that it had worked properly. Not that it would be a big loss if it went awry, he thought. "Confundo!" he added for good measure.

"Wait," she said, as he made to turn away. Letting him go (his arm seemed to weep), she strode forward. He noticed, with a pang, that he'd forgotten to conjure shoes, as her bare feet padded across the stone floor. She raised his leg, and he realised what she was about to do.

"Wait," he called out, before conjuring a pair of black stilettos to go with her dress.

He felt gratified when she gave him a beatific smile.

Ten minutes later, they were in the Hall of Prophecies, and he was still wincing as he remembered her parting gift to the unconscious Death Eater. He made a silent wow never to anger any women in high heels.

Or any women for that matter.

He turned his attention back to the matter at hand – the Hall of Prophecies was huge, and it was filled with shelf after shelf of glowing blue orbs.

Callida had followed him before he could ask her to stand outside, and now, all he could do was to ask her to keep quiet about this. "Of course I will!" she said, affronted, "what do you take me for?"

"All right, all right," he muttered. Raising his wand, he said, "Accio, Prophecy about Harry Potter and the Dark Lord," with a flourish of his wand.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and then he noticed the glowing ball zooming at him through the air. With his skills honed by years of Quidditch, he neatly caught it out of the air, and placed it in his bag, adding in a quick "Spongify," to cushion it properly.

"I see," said Calli. "Anything else?"

He shook his head no, and quietly walked out of the hall, into the room of Time, cancelling the charm on the door after he'd walked out. He was sorely tempted to steal one of the Time-Turners, but he realised that they were undoubtedly inventoried. He didn't need the added pressure of the Department of Mysteries and the Unspeakables after his ass for theft as well.

Instead, his mind drifted to the blue orb in his back. After everything had been said and done, he was suddenly dreading what the Prophecy orb would hold within it.

"Hey," he heard the soft voice behind him, and he turned to see Calli looking at him, her eyes compassionate. "It's okay, it'll _be _okay," she said.

He nodded his head, not really convinced. Behind him, Calli grinned mischievously.

He jerked as her tail reached up slightly, and tickled him under the chin. He couldn't help the giggle that escaped him, but he whirled around to glare at the Succubus.

He found her looking innocently about, her tail waggling in the air behind her. She was even whistling nonchalantly, but looked at him anyway, "Yes?" she asked, with false curiosity.

Having been around Fred and George long enough, he could recognise a prank when he saw one, so he let it go, knowing that she would never agree that it was her.

"Must have imagined something," he said, and he smiled widely. He turned again, this time slinging his bag off his shoulder to rummage within it.

_Smack!_

He jumped in the air as her tail collided firmly with his butt. Rubbing his smarting cheeks, he asked, "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" she asked, her eyes wide and child-like.

"You just smacked me with your tail!"

"What?" she asked, eyes widening further. "My tail is back here!" she said, giving it a wiggle for good measure. His eyes narrowed, but he handed her the item he pulled out of his bag to her, anyway.

"Is that an Invisibility Cloak?" she asked, impressed. He nodded, and she let it slide through her fingers, marvelling at the softness. "It has strange magic," she whispered seeming almost in awe of it. He almost facefaulted the next second when she cheerily added, "It smells like you!"

"You can sense magic?" he asked, eagerly. "I can only do it with extreme concentration!" he added, highly impressed.

"All Succubi can," she said. "Part of the skill set," she said, waving her tail again. "I can teach you, though, if you want..."

"That would be brilliant," he said in excitement.

"Excuse me while I correct you," she said, turning her nose up in the air. "But _I'm_ just brilliant."

He laughed, genuinely, and her eyes brightened as well, as she threw the Invisibility Cloak over her. However, once she was hidden from sight, her gaze turned troubled – she was unsure of what to make of this new enigma before her. He was unlike any wizard she'd ever seen.

"That reminds me," said Harry, "why did the DOM recognize me as my mother?"

"It's your mother's magic," it was slightly disconcerting to hear her voice float out of nowhere. "I can literally _taste _it around you; it's like a protective cocoon. Of course, it's almost merged with your own, but I can still feel its strength."

And like he did every Halloween, Harry sent up a prayer thanking whoever was up there for giving him the greatest parents in the world.

"Right," he said, "any ideas about the way out?" he asked.

"Ask the room," she said.

"I did, and it didn't work before."

"Well, maybe you didn't ask the right question!"

_It couldn't hurt to try,_ he thought. "Which door is the way out?" he asked loudly.

As before, the walls spun, and came to a halt with another groan and the door lodged into place before him.

He pushed it open, and was glad to see the familiar corridor before him, and the stairs to his right.

"Come on then," he said, walking out, but making sure to vanish the ropes binding Rookwood. He made his way to higher levels, glad to be out of the oppressive environment of the Department of Mysteries.

He barely made it up to the Atrium again, until he was met by a very irate Dumbledore. Instead of ranting at Harry, however, the old Headmaster smiled, making Harry very uncomfortable indeed.

He understood why, the very next second, as Molly and Arthur Weasley stepped out of from behind him, Molly looking quite irate as well.

He gulped, but at least she had the sense not to create a scene at the place where her husband worked. She merely pointed to the direction of the lifts, and a short explanation, saying that she'd come to pick him up after the Trials, but they would be waiting at Arthur's office until noon, when he got off, so they could return together.

"Well," Harry, said Dumbledore gravely. "I am disappointed in you, very much so –"

"With all due respect, Sir," Harry paused, "actually, Sir, with no respect at all," he continued rudely, "I will tell you, in a concise manner, what I have been trying to convey to you for the past week or so. I am sure you need to hear this a lot more – _Bugger off!_"

The Headmaster flinched as if struck, and Mrs. Weasley gasped in horror behind him. People stopped and turned towards them, but carried on when they saw who was standing there.

"I will make myself even clearer, Sir," he continued, "I wish for you to stay out of my life, in fact, I wish for you to go drown in a glob of your own spit, but we cannot have what we want, can we?" Mrs. Weasley was looking horrified now, Dumbledore was pale, and Arthur...seemed quite calm, given the circumstances. "I do not wish to associate myself with you, at all, and believe you me, if not for the Magical Charter, I would be out of Hogwarts before the OWLs faster than you forgive Snape every time he bullies me in the classroom!"

"How dare you speak to the Headmaster that way- " began Molly, but Harry intervened.

"Exactly," he said. "He's the Headmaster of a school, not my Guardian, so I would appreciate it if he stayed away from me, unless it concerns my education!"

"How did it come to this between us, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, wearily.

"Go to Privet Drive." Replied Harry insolently. "Ask around. Really look into it. But then again, you do know all about it, thanks to the Monitors, don't you?"

"I never really checked on them, Harry, not unless your life was in the gravest of dangers. I thought Arabella would suffice, but it seems she neglected her job..."

"Well, you answered your own question, didn't you?" sneered Harry, and walked off towards the elevator. Sighing, Arthur followed her, while Molly could control it no longer, and shouted for him to return. Dumbledore hurriedly hushed her, the lines on his face more prominent than ever, and told her to follow them.

Turning away from her, he blinked quietly for a moment or two, before making his mind up. He had a certain house to visit.

Number Four, Privet Drive, beckoned.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"What a bitch..." muttered Calli from underneath the Invisibilty Cloak, as they made their way to the elevators, "and here I thought your mother was dead..."

Harry couldn't help but snort in agreement, but Calli continued, "I hope, for the sake of Mankind, that she hasn't reproduced too much?"

Harry chuckled this time. "Six sons and a daughter," he said.

"Wow," she said, "littlest Miss Red must be a right pain, then, if she's anything like her –"

"Ginny's one of my closest friends," said Harry, a little cooler than he wanted.

"Oh," said Calli, suddenly feeling awkward. "Sorry."

"No matter, but she's really pretty cool –"

They were forced to shut up as Arthur and a fuming Molly caught up with them. Calli frowned under her cloak. For some reason, she did not like the sound of this Ginny.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Grimmauld Place, London**

"Well?" asked Sirius, as Ginny flounced into the room excitedly.

"Ten inches, willow, dragon heartstring!" she said, excitedly. "It feels brilliant!" she gushed.

Taking it out of her box with something close to reverence – Bill snorted, but looked happy all the same that she liked his gift, she showed it off to the room.

"Well, jeez, Tonks," she whined, "at least take a look at it!"

"Meh, it's a wand – and anyway, this book is brilliant!" said Tonks. "It's one of the Boy-Who-Lived series – I never knew such trash could exist –"

"Oh, it does," said Sirius, and Ginny felt intrigued, despite herself. "Harry tried to put a stop to their production, but international demand was too big. Now he gets 35% of all profits, instead! What's this one about, anyway?"

"Well," snorted Tonks, apparently he travels back to Merlin's time, fights Morgana le Fey, and falls in love with a Succubus in Merlin's army," she said. "I never knew Harry was this good at sex –" and Bill and Sirius and Remus roared with laughter.

"Well, give it a spin," said Sirius, pointing at her wand. "Tell you what, use a Reducto on my Mother's portrait, and if it works, I'll pay you fifty Galleons, straight up."

Ginny's eyes almost bugged out, but she recovered quickly. She knew that the Blacks were filthy rich, so fifty Galleons would hardly hurt Sirius.

She pulled her wand out, and aimed it at Walburga Black's portrait, who began screaming hysterically at once.

"BLOOD TRAITOR WHORE, TRYING TO DEFILE THE HOUSE OF –"

Ginny's mind, instead, was wandering about the idea of Harry's affair, though literary, with a Succubus. Grimacing, she said, "Reducto!" putting in a bit more effort than normal.

The yellow bolt of light that shot out was huge, even making her wand recoil, but it had no effect on the painting. She could hardly shake off the heady feeling that the wand was giving her though.

Sirius whistled. "That was some serious spellcasting," he said, "if that won't work, I don't know what will...shame."

Tonks, who'd already gone back to the book, crowed with delight. "Would you look at this?!" she yelled in delight, "Apparently, Harry has 15 children with the Succubus!"

Ginny turned, fuming, this time, and screamed, "REDUCTO!"

Walburga screamed in horror as a huge white patch appeared in her portrait, the paint vanishing. Silence befell the entire house, and even the portrait shut up in fear of more harm being done to her.

"I think that warrants at least twenty-five galleons," said Sirius weakly.

Ginny grinned at the prospect of the money. She couldn't shake of the image of Harry with some long-tailed Succubus of legend, though.

She definitely didn't like the idea of Harry with some Succubus, she decided.

And then she laughed, shaking her head. Like that could ever happen...Succubi had died out a long time ago.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Ministry of Magic, Arthur Weasley's Office**

Harry sighed. Molly had been ranting continuously for almost fifteen minutes, with no sign of stopping. Arthur had left, excusing himself, but Harry thought he'd seen him cast a discreet silencing charm.

Instead of focusing on the rant, though, he was more aware of Calli's assets, which were squashed against him, as the two of them were squeezed into one side of Arthur's office, with Molly taking the only other chair on the opposite side of the table.

"...and he's done so much for you, and this is how you repay him?!"

Harry froze, suddenly, his mind going completely blank, as he suddenly felt a slight tickle on his crotch.

He went completely stiff – in ways more than one.

He heard the slightest giggle next to him, and he shook his head ever so slightly, begging with his eyes.

Another giggle, and he felt her tail under the table for real, this time. Molly showed no sign of stopping, though, even as Harry's face turned redder and redder.

The tail crept up his pants, and slowly reached for his zip. Very, very slowly, the petals parted, and one of them curled around it, and pulled it down.

He smacked it away, his face reddening to unbelievable proportions. He could hear Calli shaking with silent laughter next to him, as Mrs. Weasley stopped mid-rant.

"Is everything okay, Harry?" she asked, her voice frosty, but still slightly concerned.

"Yeah, just a mosquito..." he said lamely, cupping his hands protectively over his exposed underwear.

Molly nodded, and amazingly continued on with her rant, like she had never paused at all.

He sighed, and quickly removed his hand to pull his zip up. Lightning fast, her tail reached up, and slipped under his boxers without warning. He froze, threatening to pass out from shock right then and there.

The feel of her tail on his length was..._indescribable._ Pulling out his wand, he quietly flicked it, making the words appear under the flick, and they were invisible to all but her.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

"What does it look like?" came the whisper from behind him. "Nice..._wand_work, by the way. Very..._impressive..._for your age."

He blushed a beet red colour as her tone left no room for debate on what she was actually talking about.

GET YOUR TAIL OFF MY PENIS!

"Why?" he shivered slightly, as her cool breath hit his ear. "Don't you like it?" Slowly, deliberately, she rode up his entire length, before making her way back down. His breath quickened to express proportions, his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.

"Ask me to stop," she whispered, her tail moving up and down, and slowly building up a rythm.

STOP!

"Can't, lurv," she whispered in a sultry tone, "it's just how we Succubi are. It's been seven hundred and ninety years..._colour me horny..._"

He almost came right then and there. With great effort, he panted, "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Harry dear, are you quite sure you're okay? You look quite flustered!" asked Mrs. Weasley, worried this time.

Calli's breasts pressed into him, and they shook along with her as she laughed helplessly. Her tail tightened around his shaft –

"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley," he said quickly, and before she could even begin to comprehend what was happening, he had pulled the Portkey out of his pocket, grabbed his bag, and said "Activate."

And as he was hurled into the vortex of time and space, all he could think of was that his new acquaintance would be the death of him.

They arrived at the hideout with a thump, Harry landing on his back. As luck would have it, Calli landed heavily on top of him, every part of her anatomy grinding into him. Little Harry cheered exultantly as her crotch ground into him, but Harry groaned as a wide eyed Dobby took in the scene before him.

_At least her tail was no longer wrapped around his cock_, he reasoned.

"Dobby," he said, his teeth gritted, "this is Calli. She will be staying with us for some time. She should be well looked after. She, should also explain, what in the hell she was doing back at the Ministry!"

"Oh, don't be like that, Harry," she said, grinding her crotch a bit, "I can't help it, I'm a Succubus. I'm sex on legs, love!"

"Dobby," said Harry, almost crying in frustration now, "which way is the bathroom?"

Dobby only pointed, and Harry was off like a shot, leaving a laughing Calli behind him as he roughly rolled her off him.

He needed a wank, desperately.

He gave a sigh of relief as he jumped into the shower, tore off his clothing, and revelled in the warm water pouring down upon him. He'd take a moment to grin at the havoc he'd no doubt cause amongst the Order, but he had more pressing matters on his mind.

"You know, I almost gave your elf a heart attack," spoke a voice behind him, and he jumped in shock. Calli was calmly climbing into the shower stall, in all her naked glory.

"Calli!" he spluttered, "what are you doing?"

"Taking a bath," she answered nonchalantly.

"But I'm in the bathroom! Wait for your turn!"

Calli didn't answer, but she 'accidentally' dropped her towel, and bent over to pick it back up and hang it on the rack. She turned to see Harry looking like he'd been bludgered, and grinned evilly.

He jumped back, however, as her tail reached out to cup his manhood again.

"You can't! You're over 800 years old!"

"Well, to be fair, I was in a coma for seven hundred and ninety years." Her tail reached out again, and he smacked it away in shock. She sighed, but walked seductively forward again, her hips swaying hypnotically.

Tearing his eyes away from the sight, he stammered, "B-but I'm not legal," he said, "I'm not sixteen yet! I'm fifteen!"

"And I'm worried that you're protesting against this too much for a red-blooded fifteen year old human..."

"Look, Calli," he tried to be rational, despite the fact that she was extremely close now, and his eyes were being drawn to her breasts like magnets. "We can't do this. Sure, I won't deny I'll like it..."

"Just like, Harry?" she cooed.

"Okay, love it," he amended, "but it'll be weird between us, later."

"Why ever would that happen, Harry?" she asked, her voice dropping several octaves. "I'm a Succubus, sexuality lies in our very core. Besides, this is also a way of working off my Life Debt to you," she said.

"No matter," he stuttered, "I free you from all debts, and I'll even pay off your bloody mortgage if you have one!"

She was brushing right up with him now, her breasts rubbing his chest. He groaned, unable to hold it in.

She smirked. "But I want to, Harry," she said. "This is the first time I'm physically doing this for someone, and my magic is telling me that it's right –"

"Why me?!" asked Harry, hyperventilating now. "There are loads of other-"

She cut him off with a deep kiss, and he found himself responding involuntarily. When she released him, he was shocked to find her tail wrapped tightly around his wrists, and try as he might, he couldn't pull them apart.

He almost fainted as she sank to her knees, taking his length in his hand. "Oh, and Harry?" she asked innocently.

"Yes?"

"Even though this is my first time, I think I'm a swallower," she said cheerfully, and then took him promptly in her mouth, her tongue swirling and swishing up his length.

_Oh my god,_ thought Harry, as he moaned, _the Lord forgive me for my Sins._

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

He opened his eyes, his body feeling pleasantly heavy. Calli's face swam into view above him, her teeth glinting as she smiled.

"Ah, you're awake," she said cheerfully. "It's dusk now, want something to eat?"

"What happened?" he croaked, sitting up.

"Oh, you passed out after you came," said Calli cheerfully. "Apparently, I'm very, _very_ good at all things sexual – it was quite flattering, actually! But then again, I _am_ a Succubus, so that's expected. Oh, and I commend you – what you lack for in stamina, you more than make up in volume."

She threw back her head and laughed when Harry groaned and sank his head into the pillow.

"Go away," came the muffled groan, and she laughed.

"Harry," she said.

"Leave me alone!"

"Harry Potter, if you don't look up, I swear I'll tie you to the bed and –"

"All right, all right, I'm up," he said. She giggled, but she was worried that somehow, she'd meant what she said. Something had changed today, she was sure, and the consequences of that scared her.

"Look, Harry," she said, sighing in exasperation when he refused to meet her eyes, his cheeks red. "Look," she repeated, in a gentler tone, "I know you're embarrassed by what happened, and I'm sorry if it really made you that uncomfortable, Harry. Succubi are creatures of raw sexual energy, and we get our life source from all acts sexual as well, along with feeding on the ambient and raw magic around us...I was just as hormonal as a teenager today, and your sexual aura gave me the release I was looking for too, so I promise to be more in control, if that's what you want."

He looked blank, and she sighed. 800 years, and boys remained the same.

"Look, you came, your sexual aura flared, your magic flared, I came. We're both sated now," she said bluntly.

"No more...stuff?" asked Harry, weakly.

"No more blowjobs, you mean?" she asked, and laughed at the look on his face. "Call a spade a spade, Harry. Fine," she said, pouting, "if that's what you want. But," she said, raising a finger, and Harry groaned, "no promises."

"_Why not?_" he moaned.

"Sex on legs, Harry, sex on legs..."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP **

Albus Dumbledore sat at the bar in the Hog's Head, empty shot glasses of Firewhisky before him.

"He was really abused, Abe," he said morosely, asking for another. His trip to Privet Drive had not yielded good results. "The Hero of the Wizarding World, James and Lily's son...I failed him!"

"That's Aberforth to you, Albus," said his brother. "And this is the last one, and then I'm cutting you off. Also, you might not have failed him even more if you didn't manipulate him all the time!"

"It was necessary," sighed Albus. "The boy is going to play a major role in the War to come, and it was necessary. I couldn't let him into battle with no experience at all. And he was never really in harm's way," he continued, "I never let matters get out of hand –" He drained the glass before him, and swayed slightly.

"All for the Greater Good, right, Albus?" asked the Barkeep sarcastically. "It's always for the Greater Good, isn't it? I think he's done a fine job, running away. I'd do it earlier, if it was me –"

"Can't you ever forgive me for that, Aberforth? Your own brother?" asked Albus, ignoring the latter part of his brother's words.

"Have you ever forgiven yourself, Albus?" asked his brother. "No, I can't, and I won't Albus. Now get out of here, and don't darken my doorstep unless you want me to break your nose again!"

Dumbledore sighed, but made his way out, anyway. Harry needed to be found, as soon as possible. He needed to try and mend his relationship with the boy, but more importantly, the boy could not be removed from the path Albus had set him on. Great events had been set into motion, and any changes in the playing field could mean the difference between Victory and Defeat.

In the end, as his brother said, it all came down to the Greater Good.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**12****th**** August, 1995**

**Evening**

"I can't believe Harry ditched us," said Fred moodily.

"I can't believe he tricked us," said George moodily.

"Why would he do this?" asked Lupin moodily.

"I had so many plans for him," said Sirius moodily.

"Cheer up, girls," said Ginny, as she came down the stairs. "Dobby just came in with a letter from him."

"He better have a darn good reason for doing a runner," muttered Bill.

At that moment, a roar could be heard from below. "CHARLIE! I NEED SOME MORE OINTMENT FOR THE SCAR!"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOMAN, LATER!" shouted Charlie back, and the others winced.

"CHARLES MURIEL WEASLEY, IF YOU DON'T COME DOWN RIGHT NOW, I'LL -" yelled back Tonks.

"Muriel?" mouthed Sirius incredulously, while Charlie blushed and shouted, "COMING, I'M COMING, YOU SHAPESHIFTING WENCH! HOLD YOUR RUDDY HORSES!" He gave Bill, who was making whipping noises, the finger, as he walked out the room.

"Well," said Sirius, pointing to the letter, "let's have it then!"

"It's addressed to you," said Ginny, handing it over to him.

"Thanks," said Sirius, tearing it open.

_Dear Sirius,_

It began.

_First off, I'm sorry. You're probably both livid and disappointed right now – and you deserve to be._

"Damn straight," muttered Sirius, before continuing. _I may have slightly lied about the Portkey leading me back to Grimmauld Place,_ (Bill swore), _but I'm at an extremely safe place now. It's been a crazy day, and the best part is, I can legally use magic now! Read all about the Trial – or lack thereof – in the Prophet tomorrow, the bug was there in the Courtroom. I'm going to use this to train, Sirius – because I'll confess this – I'm scared._

Everyone in the room blanched. Harry bleeding Potter, scared?

_I saw the attack on Azkaban, Sirius- it was brutal. Why didn't you send reinforcements – lives could have been saved!_

"I TOLD THEM!" yelled Sirius, but it did no good. Harry was somewhere far away, right then, there was no way he could hear their excuses.

_He took down one entire side of the prison with one spell, Sirius, one bloody spell. He commanded the Dementors with nothing more than a word, and he killed and tortured with frightening ease. I'm up against this, Sirius, and I need all the practice I can get. Dobby's taken my trunk here, so there's no shortage of information – but time is running out, fast. Once back at Hogwarts, between classes, my training time will be cut down drastically, now is the best time to do it._

"He's right," said Ginny, her face pale. "Voldemort won't let up on him."

_I know you wanted to spend time together with me this summer, Sirius, and I'm truly sorry we can't. I promise, once this whole mess is over, you and me, we'll go on a long vacation together, just us two. Somewhere sandy, with lots of sun. I've always wanted to go to the beach...maybe Remus can tag along._

The others gawked as Sirius and Remus sniffed a bit, their eyes bright.

_Maybe the two of you will finally realise that you're made for each other, as well!_

The faraway looks on their faces vanished to be replaced by twin looks of shock, as the others roared with laughter. "Cheeky little bugger," said Sirius, shaking his head fondly.

_And Sirius, I know you hate being cooped up in the house all alone, but I promise you, it won't last long. I can feel it in my bones, change will come in the end. And besides, you can train up as well, old man, so maybe you won't get a drubbing from your Godson the next time we duel. Get a shave, dump the bottle, and then take the stick from out your arse, and use it to cast some spells. Moping and whining won't make anything better. The Sirius I knew was a Marauder – he'd find a way to get rid of the Hag's Portrait, instead of taking it in stride. You better solemnly swear you'll be up to no good, Padfoot, or you'll have an unhappy Godson to deal with._

"Little bugger," he repeated again, but there was fond affection in his eyes...and a hint of something else that had been missing for a long time.

_Have faith, my Dogfather –_everyone snorted –_things will get better. Good things do happen to good people – wait, that came out wrong. Good things will happen to you as well in the end, I swear it will._

Sirius swore again, smiling, while the others roared with laughter at his expense.

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. – Don't bother writing back. I know this'll sour your mood a bit, but after this last letter, we're under a complete Fidelius, and it's sealed tighter than a Goblin's wallet. Chin up, Sirius!_

_P.P.S. – I found the thing you told me about. Found something else, perhaps even more interesting, along the way. I think I'm going to put off facing the former, for a while – it'll make it all final. But then again, there may be some good advice in there. Guess it can't wait, then. I _will_ stop here now, but I do love you. We'll defeat him, I tell you, how could we not, when I have you by my side, Paddy?_

"Paddy?" asked Sirius in confusion, but Remus shrugged, indicating he didn't know.

_P.P.P.S. – And just to cheer you up again, that's short for "Padfoot, My Honorary Daddy". Moony gets honorary Godfather, but somehow, "Moongod" isn't as catchy, even though it'll explain the lack of females in Moony's life if he _does_ like it._

Everyone roared with laughter at his last sentence, and Moony cursed Harry good naturedly.

"Sirius?" he asked, suddenly, "are you crying?"

"Me?" asked Sirius, face shielded from view, his voice unnaturally high. "Why would I be crying, Moonster?"

But when the others saw him the next morning, nobody could reconcile the clean shaven, smiling, charming man with the depressed alcoholic who'd been moping about the kitchen only the day before.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP HP**

**Godric's Hollow, 12****th**** August**

**Night**

They sat together at the Dining Table, strange partners, Wizard and Succubus.

"You going to listen to that Prophecy?" asked Calli.

"You going to tell me why you were in coma, or why you were captured?"

Calli hestitated, but then seemed to steel herself.

"Fine," she said, serious for once. "800 years ago, can you remember which war took place?" she asked.

"Merlin versus Morgana," said Harry, who'd been thinking about this for a long time. Calli nodded.

"We were on Merlin's side," she said. "Wizards and creatures mixed freely then, and we were amongst his strongest allies. Hell, he was brought up in the wild by us before he attended Hogwarts!"

"Merlin went to Hogwarts?!" asked Harry, stunned.

"Slytherin House," she added, with a tiny grin, which faded though, when Harry spat out his pumpkin juice in shock. "Yes," she said drily, "not all Snakes are evil, get over it. Anyway, we were at War, and we were winning. Morgana came upon this Dark Spell, and she used to curse me and my brethren. We were damned forevermore, but somehow, I was exempted for my spell. I was in the front lines with my mother when she cast it, but instead of taking the brunt of the spell, I was somehow protected when my mother grabbed onto me and held on, shielding me from its effects..."

"Just like you," she said with a sad smile, seeing the look on his face, "I know. But even so, it was too much magical energy at once, and my body shut down, and I fell into coma at that very battlefield."

"I woke up over seven hundred years ago, this June, when another great wave of Magic broke me out of my reverie. All this," she gestured around her, "was new. It took me some time to just. I woke up to see that the world had changed – I was in some place called Little Hangleton, which I had never known to exist before –"

Harry spat his Pumpkin Juice out again, coughing. "What?" asked Calli, a bit annoyed at being interrupted.

"Little Hangleton, June?" asked Harry weakly. "June Twenty-Fourth?"

"To be precise, yes," said Calli, "how do you know?"

"It was me," explained Harry weakly, "I think I awoke you," she said. She sat back and listened, stunned, as he spoke of his duel with Voldemort, and the Priori Incantatem effect.

"Holy mother of Merlin," she breathed, "that makes so much sense now," she said. That would explain why she was drawn towards him so much, as well, she owed him a much bigger debt than she had originally thought. "Don't worry," she said, looking at Harry's stricken face, because he seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion. "I won't repay my debt that way again," she said with a laugh, and Harry's cheeks burned, and he became very interested in his food. "This calls for something much, much _better,_" she couldn't resist adding in a sultry voice.

"Kidding, just kidding," she hastily amended, giggling as Harry brought his forehead down on the table with a sharp smack. "But I _will_ repay you, somehow," she said.

"Teach me," he said, eyes shining. "You fought in a bloody war with Merlin, you must have picked up _something!_ Teach me everything possible!"

She nodded, somehow pleased by his eagerness to learn from her. "We'll see," she said, "on with the story, then. I'll skate over this path, because this isn't pleasant. I was captured by this New Dark Lord – one idiot every age, I tell you – and he was pleased to find out I was a Succubus," she shuddered, "he dredged up this awful ritual, I have no idea what for, but it involved – as you saw –" she wrinkled her nose, "cutting runes into my stomach, and then cutting my womb off. Thankfully, they did not get that far - thanks to you."

"But why were you at the Ministry? Why not do the ritual at the Graveyard, or the Riddle Manor?"

"Don't you know about the room I was in, Harry?"

"The room of bizarre rituals?" he hazarded a guess.

"Pathetic, but sadly, not too far off the mark," she said, laughing and shaking her head. "It's the room of the Stone Table, one of the most powerful places to do arcane rituals on."

Harry laughed, sure she was having him on. "The Stone Table? Was there a stone knife to go with it? Did an evil witch sacrifice a lion on top of it, which later came back to life?"

"The Obsidian Knife, and yes, how did you know that? It was the first recorded use of self-Necromancy!"

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice, but he was unsure if she was serious or not, so he let it slide.

"But still, why the Stone Table? What difference would it make to do it on any old table?"

"Old magic, Harry...you'll see, some acts, they have this incalculable power - performing a ritual on that Table is one of them. In fact, I think it was one of the bloody Death Eaters who proposed it the the Dark Lord...creepy little bastards, the whole lot of them..."

Harry felt anger and revulsion seize him. "Did the Death Eaters try to hurt you in any other way?" he asked, his teeth clenched. She looked up, touched. Even so many years ago, wizards had looked down upon the other magical creatures, and yet here was another before her, who cared for her welfare just as much as he cared for his other Wizarding friends' wellbeing.

"No," she said, and he relaxed, "thankfully, I was too precious. Make no mistake, though, I would have died, if it weren't for you today." She abandoned her seat, choosing to go round the table and plop down on his lap instead, and kissed his cheeks, leaving red marks on both cheeks. "Thank you, for more than one things," she said.

"N-no problem," stammered Harry, and the two of them stayed like that for some time.

"Calli?" he asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Wha – what happened to the other Succubi? What did the spell do?"

"Succubi are creatures of the Soul, Harry. She took that power, and bastardized it into something evil or twisted. Can you think of any creature, any other creature, that can affect your souls, right to your very core – even go so much as to suck it out...? She turned them into something pure evil, an abomination -"

"_Dementors,"_ he breathed in shock, and she nodded, even as a crystal tear slid down her cheek and fell onto his wrist.

She sobbed in earnest as he held her, crying into his shoulder, and mourning the fate of her people. He rubbed her back and whispered into her ear, and at the same time, swore that he would try and find a way to reverse the effects of Morgana's spell, however impossible a task it seemed.

A strange couple they were, at that dinner table, together, Succubus and Wizard...

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP **

**Later That Night**

"_...the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal...and he shall have a power the Dark Lord knows not...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies..."_

He stared into the moonlight outside, fear welling up inside him rapidly as the ghostly form of Professor Trelawney faded into the night, her words still lingering in the cool night air. He was no equal of the Dark Lord, he had no hidden powers, but then how would he face insurmountable odds and defeat the Dark Lord?

He heard the soft padding of bare feet behind him, before Calli sat down next to him on the floor, and put her arm around him, pulling his head onto her shoulder. "You shouldn't have listened to it without me," she chided gently, smacking him slightly on the butt with her tail.

He smiled a bit, but it faded. "You heard anyway," he said.

"That I did," she said, "and to think I was creeping in to seduce you and make you my eternal sex slave..."

He chuckled lightly. "Maybe that _is_ the power the Dark Lord doesn't know?"

"Sex? Fine by me, when do you want to give it a try?"

"I don't know, I'll have to look up an ideal girl first..."

Another smack, this time faster and harder. He laughed slightly.

"Maybe the two of you are equal idiots," she suggested lightly, "turning down sex from –"

"Sex on legs?"

"Right in one."

Silence prevailed for a moment.

"I'm scared, Calli," he confessed.

"Me too, Harry," she said. "Honestly, Succubi can get pregnant from swallowing semen..."

"WHAT?!" he roared, jumping away from her, stunned disbelief on his face. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME! IS THERE-"

She rolled around on the floor, roaring with laughter at the look on his face. "Priceless," she wheezed, "your expression..."

"You minx!" he swore, realising he'd been had. He tackled her, and she squealed in terror as he began tickling her ruthlessly.

"Mercy! Mercy!" she pleaded, gasping, laughing helplessly. "Oh, I'm going to..." she writhed under his fingers, "I'm going to pee, Harry, stop it!"

"Say Uncle!" he threatened.

"Fine, if that's your fetish," she replied cheekily. He came at her again, but this time, she was ready. They tussled together on the floor for a few moments, before they came to rest in the position they'd started out in this house, Calli lying on top of him.

"Well, this feels comfortable," she said, trying to ignore the swooping in her stomach as she looked into his green eyes. Harry gulped slightly.

"You know," he said, trying to change the topic of the conversation, "when I woke up this morning, I wasn't expecting to end up in this position. End up in Azkaban if my trial went awry, yes. End up dead if Voldemort and his followers found me, yes. End up on my back with a hot succubus on top of me, no."

"So you admit I'm hot?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, if I squint really hard and turn my head ninety degrees..."

Harry got another smack from her tail on the forehead. "Would you cut that out?" he asked exasperatedly. "Or I swear I'll tie it up!"

"Tie up my tail?!" she asked, mock horrified. "My tail, with all its wonderful skills?!"

"The very same," he said with a grin. "Now, if you'd get your breasts off my chest, and your butt of my crotch, I could sit up."

He crowed with laughter as the faintest pink graced her cheeks, and he punched his fist in the air. "Oh, Potter, it is _on_!" said the succubus, laughing, "though I must say, this is a large improvement. Only this morning, you were gawking at my twins like they were the greatest things God had made!"

She didn't get the expected reply, as he was looking into space, grinning.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing, you just reminded me of Ginny there," he said with a smile. "We have the same thing going!"

"So then it'll be a three-way in the end, I suppose," she said with a sigh, annoyed at the resurrection of the mysterious Ginny who Harry was so quick to defend.

Harry shook his head. "Calli, is nothing unrelated to sex for you?" he asked, smiling.

She didn't answer for a second. "Let's train," she said suddenly after a few moments of silence. _Ginny_ couldn't help him train!

"Now?" he asked, startled.

"Well, if you want to get better, there's no time like the present!"

"You're on!" he said, and his face lit up like she'd said that Solstice had come early. "What do we start with?"

"Did you know," she began, "that Merlin was trained by us in the beginning?" He shook his head, his eyes shining, his grin threatening to split his face. "Archives say that the first thing we did with him was to bring him more in tune with his soul, for him to be in tune with his magic –"

"His soul?" asked Harry, confused. "Don't you mean his magical core?"

"The magical core theory is bullshit, Harry, it's the product of fantasy novels! Magic is the reflection of your soul, a mixture of Yin and Yang, the balance to the mundane. It is in you, outside you, always in motion – a swirling Chakra of energy..." she trailed off, "What?"

"You make it sound so beautiful," he said, awed.

"Thank you," she said, inordinately pleased. "For this very reason, the Animagus Transfiguration comes easier to powerful wizards. Their form is a representation of the soul, their Spirit Animal, as the Native Americans call it. You will learn to find your centre, bring yourself in tune with it, and learn to control and manipulate it. In addition, I will be teaching you Soul Occlumency," she continued, "of the highest order. In the end, you should have gained enough mastery to effectively drive those who delve into your minds without permission, to the edge of insanity, with sheer magical power, alone."

Harry was almost salivating by now. "What do we begin with?" he asked, excitedly.

She grinned, and waved her tail in midair. Harry's grin faltered, every so slightly.

Even so, he took up the lotus position as she instructed, and then allowed her to place it on his head, opened.

"I'll be pushing you into the coma now," she warned, "don't panic, or you will be irreversibly damaged –"

"Get on with it!" he said, impatient to begin.

"And be patient!" she admonished, smirking. "Don't act like a goat in heat!"

"Don't you mean a Succubus in heat?" he shot back with a grin.

"Harry, you do realise I have complete control over your mind at this instant?" she asked, threateningly.

Harry changed his tone immediately. "Callida, darling," he said, the banter coming easily to him, "have I told you how _gorgeous_ you look in the moonlight?"

"I always look gorgeous, Harry," she said, and then, without preamble, "Nighty night!"

Only then did she allow the concern to show on her face as the boy slumped under her tail, and she took him into her lap and waited, gazing blankly out into the moonlight, absently stroking his hair.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Harry awoke in the middle of a desert, the sun glaring down upon him. There was nothing around him for miles, except for sand. He panicked slightly, thinking the training had gone awry, but then he calmed himself. There was nowhere to go, no one to ask.

He reached into his pocket. His wand wasn't there.

Panic seized him again, and he started walking around, desperately. The sand lay absolutely still about him, the wind lay absolutely still, the sun beat down the same unending tattoo upon his skin.

The world around him was mundane, boring, he realised. What a terrible place to die, to lose his mind...

And out of the blue, it struck him.

"_Magic is the reflection of your soul, a mixture of Yin and Yang, the balance to the mundane..."_

He needed to transverse the mundane world first, to reach his soul, to gain Nirvana.

Sitting down upon the sand, he got into the Lotus position again, and closed his eyes.

He concentrated on his breathing..._in...out...in...out..._and he felt the world around him change.

He suddenly found himself in a shack in the middle of nowhere, only a thin blanket between him and the cold wooden floor, but the sofa next to him was bare. He recognized the hut on the rock_ , _and glanced quickly at the watch on his hand. 11:45:00 it read.

In fifteen minutes, something would, he felt sure. This was the beginning of Magic, the outer edges of his soul. He couldn't explain how, but he just _knew_. There was a huge rumble outside, and suddenly, water began trickling in through the floor. He watched, horrified, as the water began to rise higher and higher. Panicking, he made his way towards the door, but it was locked, and he still had no wand. He ran upstairs, but met the same fate – of course, he had no memory of what the hut looked like on the first floor. The water kept rising, rising...

11:50:00

The room was filled with floating furniture. The storm was roaring outside, the sea matching it bit for bit. Another rumble, and the hut began to break away around him, falling away into the sea. He climbed onto the kitchen counter, holding on for dear life, as the sea opened its gaping maw towards him.

11:55:00

The sea raged and rolled about him, the hut was gone, the island swept away, and he was left floating on a piece of wood, shivering in the extreme cold. He rode up to unimaginable heights till the crests on the wave, only to fall at threatening speeds back to the surface. But suddenly, the waves stilled, silence fell, and he watched, in desperation, as a cloud gathered over him. And then, he realised, that it wasn't a cloud, but a wave like he had never seen before. Almost vertical, it loomed over him like a wall...he rose along the face of the wave...higher...higher...almost there...and then it crashed upon him.

Pain, pain beyond imagination seized him...bones snapped, limbs bent the wrong way, but he still fought like a madman, against inevitable death. But in the end, it proved too much for him.

Blackness ate away at his vision, each breath pulled more water into lungs, his eyes burned, but he barely made it out. A tiny spark of light, wherefrom he knew not, floating lazily above him. It winked at him, twinkling in the dark ocean around him, promising him salvation.

He needed it! He pulled himself agonisingly towards it, but it eluded him, moving swiftly away. He tried to summon it wandlessly, but to his horror, it moved further away. He begged for it to return, threatened it, but to no avail.

In the end, he just gave up, content to simply watch that tiny sparkle of light as his light ended. Almost sensing his thoughts, it moved towards him. But instead of reaching out, it seemed to beckon to him, and so he simply surrendered to it.

The tiny spark met his fingertip, travelling up his entire body, healing as it went, bathing it with a blue light. And in a flash, he was gone.

He lay face down on the ground, the smell of grass in his nose. With dread, he recognised the Graveyard of Little Hangleton around him, and the shining Portkey inches away from him. He got to his feet, the phantom feelings of pain from before still wracking his frame, but he found he could not walk more than two steps in any direction.

And suddenly, _Voldemort_ was there, his wand out, and before he could react, a green jet of light was speeding his way...

But was it speeding?

Instead of coming at him with the usual rushing sound, it came slowly, immeasurably slowly towards him, inching at him through the air. The winds around him acted up, and it instinctively fired up some instinct within him. Pointing his arm at the fallen Portkey, he tried to coax the wind to bring it to him, so that he could escape certain death and this godforsaken graveyard.

Yet the wind was fey, capricious, and it seemed to laugh at its effort to control it. The rustling sound of the wind in the trees and the grass irked him, and he concentrated harder than ever, as the green jet came ever closer to him. Panic seized him as he realised just how close it was, but he tamped down hard upon it, and concentrated more.

A shift, or two, and nothing. He roared in anger – he wasn't going to die now, not after what he'd just been through, not this way! This was _his_ magic, he realised, his to control, his to conquer. With another almighty roar, he bent the wind to his will, and with a whooshing sound, the Portkey was in his hand, and he was gone, just as the Avada Kedavra passed through where he'd been nanoseconds ago...

He was surrounded by a ring of fire, blazing and dancing around him. It seemed to terrify him and delight him at once, shadow and flame together, dancing an endless dance. Light and dark, good and evil, yin and yang...yet he was at a loss for what to do. He'd crossed the mundane, surrendered to his magic, bent it to his will. All that remained was to...

He reached out, and embraced the fire.

Calli's eyes shot open as Harry seized up in her arms, and his eyes shot open, burning orbs of green. A wave of primal magic washed over the room, setting her senses tingling, her hormones running.

"Oh my god," she barely got out, before another wave of magic slammed into her, leaving her gasping and panting for breath. Harry's mouth opened, and he began to chant of his own accord, both terrible and beautiful things at once. She heard the cry of a phoenix and the howl of a werewolf, the Guardians of the Light, and the Legion of the Dark in the same voice. The Magic was now swirling and swishing in the room around her, setting her senses on overload. Harry seemed to be regaining control of himself, but as his eyes cleared, he began to _yell_...

"No, HARRY!" she screamed, trying to reign herself in. The world around her was chaos, glass shattered, the bed burst into flames, the desk was blown apart into splinters. Harry was losing control of his magic, his skin was overheating, she swore she could see the smoke curling off his body.

With no other option, she leapt upon him and kissed him brutally, trying to siphon the excess magic into her own self. It worked, after a fashion – she felt her skin seemingly burst into flame, her heart speed up to unimaginable proportions, her brain overheat and work at ten times its usual rate. And Harry was suddenly kissing her back, and his hands were on her back, burning through cloth and skin. Another huge wave of magic, and she completely lost control.

The world around her exploded in a haze of white, and shattered to pieces before rebuilding itself before her eyes. Wings, magnificent wings burst out from her back, and curled around the two of them, protecting them from the chaos outside.

She was suddenly floating in heaven, even as she shuddered violently in her arms, biting into his shoulder to muffle her screams, enough to draw blood...

And then, she slowly started coming down to the earth, only barely aware of her bleeding lips, or the scratches on Harry's back, or the dripping, overflowing wetness between her legs...

One last, lazy tingle of magic, but she was already surrendering to the whiteness around her, as she lost the battle for consciousness. Harry stayed awake for only a second or two more, before he lost his senses as well.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

She awoke slowly as the rays of sunlight crept into the room, almost whining in protest as the real world called her back. Her muscles felt like they'd been immersed in warm chocolate, her brain felt like it had not a care in the world. She smiled lazily, but stopped short as she remembered the events that had transpired last night.

Experimentally, she flexed her wings, and gave a small squeal of joy. She was finally a Senior Succubus, now able to freely hunt for her Chosen One! Only one day with Harry and she was already reaping the benefits –

Speaking of Harry. A groan, and then, "Wow, those are new," he croaked. "What the hell happened? Did I pass the wonky tests?" he groaned again, clutching his head.

_What happened? I foolishly set you on a journey that only a handful had ever been on, you somehow got through with it, as I knew you would, you came back to consciousness, wrecked the entire house, gave me the greatest – albeit only – true orgasm I ever had...and you're asking if you passed?_

She realised that Harry had already gone back to sleep in the few seconds she'd taken to think – which was obvious, due to the extremely draining nature of the ritual. She answered his question anyway.

"Oh, you passed," she assured him, "did you ever!"

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP **

**Read and review! ^_^ Bring them reviews upto 200, eh? And exams are over, WHEEEE! Edit 23/9/12: Thanks to Teufel1987 who pointed out some errors, and I realised in horror that in my haste to get the chapter posted at two in the night, I'd left out an entire paragraph I'd planned earlier - which, ironically, was my nod to the Chronicles of Narnia series. It's back on now, along with some other corrected errors.**


	8. Days in the Lives of Harry Potter

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling, that saucy wench, owns it all.**

**Chapter 8: Days in the Lives of Harry Potter**

**August 13****th****, Early Morning**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

Harry opened his eyes slowly, revelling in the cozy warmth all around him. He felt like he'd been soaking in a warm bath all night, every muscle of his body was feeling loose and comfortable. He rubbed his eyes, before they shot open in disbelief.

The room around him was in shambles. Splinters of wood littered the floor; broken glass lay around the room, setting off light scintillations everywhere, even a smell of burning ozone hung about in the hair.

He screwed up his eyes trying to remember everything that had happened yesterday. _The hearing –_ he smirked, _breaking into the Department of Mysteries, finding Calli-_

Of course, Calli! Everything from last night came rushing back to him. Descending into the depths of his own soul to reach into his magic, barely making it out alive...and then. He frowned, everything went blank after that, till waking up.

He stretched lithely, standing up (careful to avoid the glass), and reached for his wand. He frowned, it wasn't on the bedside table – hell, there wasn't a bedside table left standing to keep his wand on.

_What the hell, have I broken my wand by mistake!?_ He panicked, before taking a few deep breaths.

He was in tune with his magic now, according to Calli – he'd succeeded, last night, hadn't he? Though he could probably guess that not many people went for, or ever survived that ritual – but then again, he _was_ Harry freakin' Potter.

He smirked for a few seconds, before chastising himself; he had no business getting a swollen head after all these years. Calli seemed to be rubbing off on him, already.

Speaking of Calli, "CALLI!" he bellowed.

"WHAT?!" came the reply after a few seconds.

"GET THE HELL HERE NOW!"

Another few moments, and then she appeared, sopping wet, and completely naked.

"Bloody hell!" he swore, turning around sharply. "Why in the name of Morgana's saggy left tit are you naked?!"

"I was taking a bath, you git! You told me to get my ass here immediately, I got worried!"

"So you came _naked_?!"

"What if you were getting attacked, you idiot?! And besides, it's not like it's torture to see me naked!"

"Speak for yourself there," he muttered.

A sharp smack on his behind, and he whirled around. "Would you stop hitting me with your bloody tail!?" he said angrily. "My butt aches!"

"I could massage it for you," she offered sultrily, and he resisted the urge to go take a leap out of the broken window. It seemed that she'd snuck up on him while his back was turned, and now he could see, for the third time in two days, a completely naked Succubus.

"I'll pass for now," he said, and then cut her off before she could begin, "and NO, I will not be wanting one later, either!"

"You take all the fun out of life," she complained pouting, before she grinned mischievously again. "So, why call me here, young grasshopper? Could it be that you knew I was taking a bath, and just wanted to see me in my bountiful, naked glory?"

"Bountiful, naked glory?" he snorted. "More like, saggy teats and a mossy smile, grandma!"

"You pig!" she said, pouncing on him and tackling him to the bed. They wrestled for a few seconds, laughing, and Harry tried his best (and failed) not to feel her up, until she had him pinned to the mattress.

"You got me all wet!" he complained.

"Just returning the favour, darling!" she said with a laugh.

He froze. "What?"

There was an awkward silence, before she stuttered, "Y – you know, in the shower yesterday?"

He arched an eyebrow. "What aren't you telling me, Calli?"

"Why would I not tell you something?"

He decided to go with his hunch, and asked, "What happened last night?" and he knew his suspicions were correct when she stiffened.

Sadly, his detective skills were in vain. She brightened a second later, and shouted, "Oh, OH! I got wings! I GOT WINGS!" She demonstrated before he could ask, and two enormous, leathery membranes burst from her back, swaying slightly in the fresh morning air.

"Wow," he said, a bit stymied, "that's great!"

"Isn't it?" she asked cheerily. She bent down and kissed him fervently, before breathing, "Thank you!"

"Why'd you kiss me?" he nearly shouted, trying to calm his heartbeat, and another organ down south.

"Because I was happy, and I wanted to thank you!" she said, as if explaining something to a little child, before adding in a husky voice, "besides, _Little_ Harry seems to like it!" she emphasized her point by grinding herself upon him.

He moaned unable to help it, before regaining his senses. He was out of the bed like a shot from a cannon, wincing as he stepped on some splinters and some glass dust.

"NonononononoNONO!" he shouted, waving his arms nearly hysterically in front of him. "I'm fifteen years old, there is only so much I can take before I get pushed off the edge! You will NOT flirt with me, come on to me, seduce me, hit me with your tail, or do anything remotely erotic in front of me!"

She cocked her head to the side. "You find getting hit by my tail erotic?" she asked with a giggle, and genuine interest, waggling the organ in question in the air, for good measure.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" roared Harry, "that's all you get from all I said?! You're crazy, I tell you, crazy! You're nothing but a sex-crazed old lady!"

"_Why,_ Harry?" asked Calli in a low voice, "is that _too_ much denial I hear?"

He threw his arms up and shouted in frustration. Calli giggled, before getting up and walking over to him, hugging him from behind. He went completely stiff (in more ways than one, again), as her breasts pushed up against his back. Her wings reached around and curled around them, only pulling him closer to her.

"Harry, love," she said, whispering into his ear, "you can't help it. This is who I am, my very nature – I can't imagine being some snotty old prude. I'm a Succubus, the last of my kind, and I'm proud of my sexuality. You'll just have to deal with it," she said. "House-elves live to serve, Vampires live to feed, and Succubi... we live to be sexy, damn it all to hell!"

"Besides," she said, _"I think_ _you like it,_" she taunted, giggling, reaching out with her tail to idly scratch at the base of his shaft, which was at full mast, the traitor.

He shook his head wildly, "Oh, I think you _do_!" she said, drawing out the last word in a singsong voice, rubbing herself up and down on his back.

"Look," he said, his voice hoarse, "just help me with my wand –"

"Say no more," she said briskly, "I'm glad you finally realised it –"

"NOT THAT WAND!" he fairly shouted. "My magical focus! I can't find it, and I can't remember what happened last night! That's why I wanted to ask you if you knew where it was, and if you could tell me what the hell happened!"

She froze again behind him, before slowly pulling herself away from him. "You're an idiot," she said flatly.

"W - what?" he spluttered.

"You went through one of the most deadly rituals possible to get in tune with your magic," she said, shaking her head, "and you can't find your wand?! Your focus is the most in tune with you after all these years, you should be able to find it easier than you find your own, real wand!" she finished.

"Right," he said, suddenly feeling stupid. He closed his eyes, and then cursed silently. Of course, there it was, under the bed. He lingered though, before he opened his eyes again, and suddenly, he was struck by how much magic there was in the world around him. It floated around him in entropy, swirling and flying and rolling and turning, bathing him, going through him, around him – it was everywhere. Calli was standing next to him, and suddenly, he was beginning to understand what she had been trying to say all along. Her very aura was completely different – it reeked sexuality, permeating the air around her, and he suddenly found himself wanting to reach out and grab her, and ravish her perfect mouth thoroughly with his tongue before...

He ripped his eyes open, before diving under the bed for his wand. Out of the corner of his eyes, he swore he saw Calli smirking, like she knew _exactly _what had just happened.

He reached out and took the wand back in his hand, but he was surprised to find none of the usual warmth shoot up his hand for a few moments, as he straightened. For a moment, it seemed as if the wand itself was siphoning the magic from his arm, setting it tingling, like a bomb about to go off, before –

"HOLY SHIT!" he screamed, grinning like a madman, as a wave of warmth of orgasmic proportions rolled off his arm and into the air around him. He swore he could _taste_ his own magic in the air around him – next to him, Calli squirmed, swearing, before wishing for the first time that she had some clothes.

His magic kept coming, in waves, and he was struck by the sheer depth and power of it. His arm started heating up, so he did the only thing that made sense. Spinning his wand in a complete circle, he said, "Reparo!"

He laughed in joy and sheer happiness as his magic reacted like never before, and danced around him, doing his will. He could feel the sizzling in every cell of his body, a delicious warmth that he could get used to.

It was like somebody had set a film on reverse. Splinters flew back into the wood, tables and chairs straightened, the glass shards reformed themselves – it was madness, it was chaos, it was_ magic!_

Laughing, he lifted a red Calli of her feet, and twirled her around in the air, grinning like a loon. Feeling invincible, unquenchable, as the magic kept pouring through him, he channelled it through his arms into his hand, which were around Calli's waist.

The Succubi turned beet red, quivering for some inexplicable reason, as he poured an undiluted cocktail of magic into her. White cloth formed from his hands, and soon she was swathed in a white dress, which hugged her frame perfectly. Her hair dried, and fell back to its natural wavy layers around her face, and her tail vibrated in delight, as she gave her one last jolt, and set her down.

The Succubi fairly ran out of the room, red-faced, wobbling slightly, muttering something about leaving the bath water running.

He laughed, not caring, but just kept on experimenting with his magic, laughing like a child at every new thing he did. He turned the walls fluorescent pink, before making them cycle colours, he made flowers bloom and climb up the sides of the room, filling the room with a heady scent. He revelled in every drop of magic he pushed out, and it kept coming, like a never ending stream. He only stopped regretfully when he turned his wand on Dobby by mistake, when the excitable elf had poked his head into the room and was suddenly dressed in a bikini and holding a purse in his hand.

He immediately missed the warmth in his arm when his magic receded, but Calli had returned to his room already by then, looking less flustered. She took one look at Dobby, complete with eyeshadow and pink lipstick, before she drawled, "Why, Harry, are you trying to tell me something about your preferences?"

He laughed, but blushed happily, and Dobby perked up too, seeing his Harry Potter this happy. Calli laughed loudly as well.

"Somebody's in a good mood today," she said, grinning.

"Good?" asked Harry. "No, this is the best morning ever!" With a flick of his wand, he had changed his clothes to everyday wear - in all the hullaballoo, he never noticed that he wasn't wearing his original nightclothes from last night, and Calli kept quiet about the fact that she'd changed him out of them.

"Come!" he said, walking over to Calli and holding his arm out.

_Already did that once this morning,_ thought Calli, but asked, "What? Where are we going?"

"Outside!" said Harry cheerfully. "I refuse to stay in on a day like this!"

"But the Fidelius –"

"Hang the Fidelius!" he said fervently. "I'm a teenager, I'm entitled to mood swings, and my mood tells me to have some fun. So get your overlarge arse out there, pronto!"

"My ass is not large!" she said, incensed.

He raised an eyebrow playfully, and she shook her head. "Harry, you know that this excess magic is because this is the first time you're using it, right?"

"Yep!" he said, popping the last consonant. "I've already been through something like this before, haven't I, Dobster?" he asked with a grin, and the elf bobbed his head up and down so eagerly that Calli thought it would fall off.

"What? How?" she asked, mystified.

"Tell you about it over breakfast," he replied, "_outside._"

"Fine," she huffed. "On your own head be it. And if that's how you want to play, you better take me shopping, Potter, because I have nothing to wear!"

He nodded his head, already halfway down the stairs. Nothing would dampen his mood today, he swore, not even a Succubus who would surely be as crazy about shopping as she was about all things erotica.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Not another one!" he moaned in despair, as Calli stopped in front of another store, a look of ecstasy flashing over her face, one he'd become familiar with over the course of the morning.

"But, Harry!" she whined, "It's a shop with ONLY SHOES!" she said, her voice getting a bit breathy near the end.

"No," he said firmly, no more. "We shopped for clothes – summer clothes, winter clothes, travel clothes – we don't even travel! I followed you into a lingerie store, dammnit! Two scary old ladies smiled at me!" he complained. "I'm scarred for life!"

She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes drifting over to his forehead.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively, before realizing what she was getting at.

Oh, yes, he already _was_ scarred for life.

"Very funny," he muttered. "And NO, we are not going in there! I should never have taken you out to Muggle London, anyway!"

"Harry," she said calmly, "you're still young," she stalked over to him, and he was unsure if she liked the gleam in her eye, "so believe me when I tell you..._never_ get between a woman and her shoes!"

"And what'll you do if I do?" he challenged, raising his chin.

"Nothing," she said, cheerily, before walking out of the alley they were currently in and heading for the shop.

"Wait!" he called to her back, gleefully, "you can't get anything unless _I_ pay for it!" he smirked, confident in his trump card.

He barely noticed her tail flick – according to her, Muggle's couldn't see it – and he squinted to make out something hanging from the end. Something round and purple and...he watched in disbelief as she flicked her tail, and it flew through the air to land neatly on his hand.

He swore and reached for his belt, to find that his money pouch was missing. "Oy!" he shouted, "give me back my wallet, you wench! It's a special currency-changing one, that itself costs 100 galleons!"

Her laughter merely wafted through the air back at him, as she tossed the bag up and down in her hand in clear victory.

He swore again, and hastened to follow her into the store.

Needless to say, he was steaming _three_ hours later, when she was still blushing and cooing over stilettos, and adding them to her basket indiscriminately. He had no qualms about spending money, but it was the fact that she had picked his pocket like that stung.

He rejected the offer of another soft drink from the rather cute attendant, choosing to sit and twiddle his thumbs instead. _Fifteen more minutes_, he told himself, _and then we'll be gone._

He heard a tiny gasp behind him, and rolled his eyes. No doubt someone from the Wizarding World had decided to take a tour of Muggle London –

Which is why he was in for a shock when the Dursleys suddenly came into view, all three of them staring at him.

Dudley was the first to open his mouth. "What're you doing here, Potter?" he asked, his mouth in a sneer. "Slacking off on your pathetic job?"

Uncle Vernon grinned next to him, but Petunia looked at him with beady eyes, sizing him up. He groaned inwardly, recognizing the look – the one she wore just before she formulated and spread another piece of outrageous gossip.

At that moment, the attendant came up to them, looking down at Harry through her bouncy curls. "Are you sure you won't take another drink, Sir?" she asked, blushing lightly. When he shook her head, she stood there awkwardly for another second or two, before suddenly thrusting a napkin into his hand, and saying quickly, "I know you came here with your girlfriend, but just in case it doesn't work out with her, maybe you could give me a call? I wrote my number on the napkin, but you can see that, I'm sure. Oh, not that I want you to break up with your girlfriend, just in case, y'know-" she realised she was rambling, turned red, and nodded furiously for a second, before rushing away.

An awkward silence followed. The Dursleys seemed stunned that someone would even want to go out with Harry, let alone two girls.

"Whoring around, Potter?" asked Vernon, an ugly sneer on his face. "Couldn't find –"

His wand was out and under Vernon's oversized chin in seconds. "Just give me a reason, Vernon," he said angrily, "one reason, and I'll blow your chin inwards so hard you'll swallow it and shit it out tomorrow morning –"

Vernon paled, but blustered, "You're lying, you c-can't do your tricks out of school!"

"Watch me," he said, and Vernon shut up, not tempting Fate further. His eyes, however, took on a malicious glint. "I never knew you had money, Boy," he said, beady eyes lighting up in glee. "Tell me, is she blowing it all for you like a good, gold-digging slag? Why else would somebody want to be with a _freak _like y-"

He was cut off mid-sentence, and he found his mouth opening and closing, with no words coming out. Harry smirked this time, raising his hand and twirling the wand in it. Vernon turned purple, clutching his throat and almost gagging. Petunia gave a little scream, while Dudley grabbed onto his bottom protectively and held on for dear life.

"Set him right!" whispered Petunia angrily, "do it right now, you ungrateful freak!" It seemed that she was itching to have a frying pan to aim at his head right then, just like old times.

That hated word, however, cut into him again, and with another flick of his wands, all three Dursleys were Silenced. Feeling particularly malicious, he raised his wand, and incanted the Bladder Buster Hex. He took exquisite pleasure as they fairly ran out of the store after that, and he laughed cruelly alongside the other customers who'd noticed the wet patch on Vernon's legs as he waddled out.

_Freak..._the word echoed through his skull, as he walked to the back of the store, and grabbed Calli's wrists.

"Come on," he said brusquely, "we're leaving." His temper was dangerously close to the surface all of the sudden, and he didn't think he could be around people any longer.

"Five more minutes, please," she pleaded. "_Look_ at these," she said, brandishing a pair of shoes under his nose.

"Don't," he said irritably, waving it away.

She giggled and persisted, waving it in front of his face, until –

"I SAID, DON'T DO THAT!"

A hush fell over the store, and every face turned in their direction. Harry swore, casting a large Confundus Charm and a Silencing Charm around him. Everybody turned back to their business, albeit a bit dazedly.

"All right, all right," said Calli weakly, even though she sounded a bit stunned. "No need to push," she said, before turning mischievous, "or are you feeling particularly frustrated?" she asked, waggling her tail towards him.

"No, I'm not!" he said, now unbelievably angry, for some reason, "and I don't need you acting like a whore to calm me down!"

The silence that descended over them was like ice, her eyes widened in shock. "W-what?" she asked uncertainly.

"You know bloody well what I mean! Since I've met you, all you've done is throw yourself at me like a slag, and then proceed to blow my money! I _told_ you this morning that I didn't like you coming on to me like that, but you just don't know when to stop, can you? You're old enough to be my fucking great-grandmother's great-grandmother, yet you can't stay away from a fifteen-year old boy! It's sick, and the worst part is, you don't even get that, Calli! I'm fifteen years old, not a man! I'm not comfortable with an older woman rubbing up against me, or getting involved sexually with me, in fact, _freakish _behaviour like that isn't even legal – something that doesn't seem to be getting through your airhead-"

SMACK! This time, it wasn't her tail, but her hand that collided with his cheeks, nearly dislocating his jaw.

He was rudely brought back to his senses, and his jaw dropped in horror as he realised just what he'd said in his blind, unjustified rage.

"Calli," he said weakly. "I didn't mean to –"

"_Don't,_" she said, her voice choked. "You meant every word, and don't you dare say otherwise, Harry Potter!"

Then she straightened, her body rigid, before stalking past him out of the shop, into the falling light.

"Calli, no, wait!" he rushed after her, calling himself every name he knew in disgust.

Her only answer was to hurl his own money pouch back at him, which hit him sharply on the nose.

"Dobby!" she called into thin air, her voice sharp, and to his surprise, the elf appeared with a crack in front of her.

Before he could even say anything more, she had asked the elf to take her straight home, and she was gone, leaving him standing foolishly in the middle of the road, clutching the side of his face and rubbing his nose.

He couldn't believe what he'd just done – he was disgusted with himself. He had no excuse, not even his age and mood swings, for his atrocious behaviour.

Wandering aimlessly, he soon found his way to the Leaky Cauldron, and slipped through quickly, lest someone from the Order see and report him. Using a bit of self-Transfiguration, he made his way into Diagon Alley alone, too guilty to go home and face the consequences of his actions.

He walked into Flourish and Blotts, wanting to seek some solace among the books, when a particular title caught his eyes, and he walked over and pulled out the dusty old book. _Creatures of the Arckane, _it read, _by Quirinus Quirrell._

Interested despite himself by a book written by his old teacher, he opened it to the index, going through it, until his eyes widened as he found a particular entry – Succubi.

He turned to the relevant page, a feeling of dread rising inexplicably in his stomach.

_Succubi, _it read,_ were one of the oldest Magical races to exist, and mysteriously went extinct only eight hundred years ago. Not much is known of their origins, and even less about their Fate, but Succubi as a race have long captured the imagination of both Wizards and Muggles alike. The Succubi were an old and proud race, commonly compared to the Amazons for their prowess in the battlefield, having fought aside both Godric Gryffindor and Merlin in the Wars of the olden days. In fact, it is commonly debated that Veela (pg.365) are descendants of this race, thanks to the similar, albeit diluted power they share with the Succubi._

_The lifespan of Succubi is perhaps their greatest attribute – they are held by near-immortal in poems and stories. A Succubi can easily live over a thousand years, in fact, they are still looked upon as children among their kind until they reach the age of fifty. However, one should not be deceived by their age, because they were already fierce, dangerous warriors by the tender age of twenty (by their standards)._

_Common perception of Succubi is sadly much skewered. Growing from rumours and myths, Succubi have now become synonymous with the Sirens in their notoriety, fabled to seduce and ensnare common Men with their wiles, and make them their slaves forever. They have been known to grace establishments of lesser repute as well, to satisfy their own carnal desires – even though this fact is complete myth. Thanks to their allure and powers, Succubi were commonly hunted by Wizards in the olden days, who sought to _'conquer'_ them, and use them for their own nefarious purposes, which has led to much degradation of their characters._

He shut the book in disgust, shaking his head when the Manager asked him if he wanted to buy it. Horror rose in him as he realised just what he'd done, and he walked out of the store and called Dobby to him immediately, asking him to take him home.

Calli, however, avoided him the rest of the evening, and had dinner in her room that night. He tried his best, but all his efforts were in vain, and he didn't dare to use his wand to open the locked door to her room, either.

He did find a note on the table, though, "I'm sorry for using your money today," it said, "I intended to pay you back fully, and I borrowed Dobby to do so. Your training starts tomorrow, and after this summer, I should have paid of my life debt to you, and I will be on my way."

Bile rose in his throat, and he pushed his food away as he noticed the sack of money lying next to the paper.

He didn't get much sleep that night, tossing and turning in his bed, trying to think how best to make it up to his new, and already dear, friend.

And even when sleep claimed him, it was uneasy, with memories of his own friends betraying him, of Ron and Hermione watching with no concern on their faces as he faced off against a dragon...

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**August 14****th****, Early Morning**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

Harry woke up, spluttering and coughing, as a cascade of ice cold water hit him on the face. He awoke, and activated his lenses, to find an expressionless Calli standing over him, holding an empty bucket.

"What was that for?" he spluttered, his teeth chattering.

"Be ready and outside in fifteen minutes," she said, with no inflection in her voice. "If you're late, I will call of training for the entire day."

"Calli!" he said weakly, as he regained full control of his disoriented senses as she made her way out of the door.

She spun around on her heel, before saying, "For the duration of our training, I will be your Master, and you will address me as such! Any breach of conduct will not be tolerated, and will be appropriately punished. This isn't fooling around, this is preparation for War, and you will treat it as such!"

He gulped. Today was going to be a bad day.

He was proven correct fifteen minutes later, when Calli said, "You will need to warm up first. Fifty laps around the perimeter, now!"

"What?!" he protested. "You can't be serious!"

"Fifty laps, and I will be joining you. Do not question my authority again!" he found himself hating this new Calli, but he knew he could do nothing, since it _was_ all his fault.

So he complied, because he did have faith in his abilities. Surely he was fit enough, he _did_ play Quidditch, didn't he?

Ten laps later, he was panting like a dog and clutching the stitch in his side. He was more stumbling than running right then, while Calli kept going next to him, her breathing even.

Twenty laps, and he collapsed on the ground, his legs giving way. He was surprised he'd lasted this long, to be honest.

"Up!" came the sharp voice behind him, and he groaned. "Up, right now!" she repeated, and he moaned and shook his head no.

A resounding smack, and he howled in agony as her tail collided against his backside.

"What was that for?" he asked, his wand out, his eyes blazing. Another swishing sound, and faster than he could see, his wand was smacked out of his hand and sent flying into the grass.

"Indiscipline will not be tolerated," she said, her eyes blazing. "Point your wand at me one more time, and I will cut it in two and leave it!"

He gulped, and something told him she wasn't talking about his focus alone.

"Get up," she said, sneering, and he was reminded unpleasantly of Snape. "Did you know, most wizards were looked upon as weak and cowardly by our kind? Do _you_ want to be stereotyped as well, Apprentice, because I won't be teaching a snivelling, pathetic excuse for a Magical Creature!"

He flinched, her tone was like ice, and her words were worse than a whip. He recognized her retaliation for his behaviour yesterday, but kept silent. "I'm not a Magical Creat-"

"Silence!" she said, her tail cracking in the air like a whip. "Magic runs through your veins, your very essence! How dare you insult it by not calling yourself a Magical Creature! Your narrow-mindedness is sickening, you are no better than the other commonplace Magicians! Pathetic!"

He recognized the subtle admonishment again, and let it slide again. He had no defense for himself, after all.

He stood up, and he willed himself to keep running. Strangely, he felt a weak tendril of warmth flow through him, before it intensified. His breathing evened out, and he began to run straighter now. He marvelled at the energy his own magic was providing him, even though it solved the mystery of why Dumbledore or McGonagall or even Flitwick were so spry for their age – he'd actually seen Flitwick catch a banished Gobstone out of thick air without so much as batting an eyelash.

Something akin to satisfaction shined in Calli's eyes, and she nodded. "Yes, use your own magic to fuel your body. Be careful to ration it, though, because nothing is infinite, and even your magic will run out in the end."

He nodded, accepting the truth of her words. Besides, his magic was no longer what it had been only the day before, and now, it was only a comfortable lingering warmth beneath his skin.

Even so, he was still exhausted at the end of all fifty laps, magic or no magic. He doubled over, wheezing, while Calli eyed him with a dispassionate eye. "As your endurance increases, so will your power and strength," she explained. "Every morning henceforth, I will expect you to run fifty laps before you meet me, and judging by your progress, I will increase your exercise as I see fit."

He groaned mentally, but kept shut.

"Now," she said, and he turned to find her wearing the slightest of smirks, and holding two elongated sticks of wood in the likeness of swords, "Dobby was kind enough to craft these for me. Defend yourself!" She tossed a sword at him, and he barely caught it out of midair before she charged at him, sword raised.

One almighty blow later, and he landed heavily on his butt on the grass. His suspicions were confirmed, she was _much_ stronger than she looked, and she had merely been playing all the times they'd been wrestling – his stiff jaw was testament to that.

"Worthless," she said, sneering again. "If that's the best you've got, you might as well throw in the towel before the Dark Lord! Use your magic, speed up your reflexes with it; change your perceptions of the world!"

"But I'm exhausted magically too!" he protested.

"Fine," she said. "Have it your way!"

She attacked again, lunging faster than a striking snake, and he barely blocked her stick, batting it aside. She disregarded it, letting the momentum of her sword carry her to the left, and she spun in a full circle and smacked him sharply on the neck, causing him to grab it in pain, gasping. "Dead," she said calmly, and danced away, before spinning around and coming at him again.

Less than ten seconds later, he landed on the ground on his face.

Growling, he reached into his magic again, and let it wash over him this time. Using the last of his energy, he took on his stance. She came at him again, but this time, it was almost as if she had been slowed down. He sidestepped smartly, tripped her, and tapped her on the small of her back, sending her sprawling to the dust.

He only managed a small grin of victory before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.

His head was pounding when he woke up again, his tongue dry. "What happened?" he croaked, wincing as she ripped the curtains apart, and strong sunlight came into the room.

"Overuse," she said briskly. "You fainted. Rest awhile, work on your homework and further your studies. I will expect you to be down in the living room at seven for our evening lessons."

He groaned at his stiff muscles as she left, her tail rigid behind her, and slumped back on the bed. He was out like a light within seconds.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**14****th**** August, Evening**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

"Sit in the lotus position," she ordered him after she came down the stairs and found him waiting.

He complied, sitting cross legged on the floor, ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles. He let the slightest tendrils of magic soothe them a bit, and almost cried in relief when his calves ached.

"Adequate," she said, noticing what he did. "Be careful to ration your magic, though, you will need it now."

"As I was saying this morning," she continued, "magic is much more than some energy to be wielded. Magic is a way of life, and as such, it should be reflected in your every action. She tossed him a few books, and said, "I asked Dobby to look up books like these in Diagon Alley. I expect you to have read them by the end of the summer." He picked up the first, and saw the title. _The Magical World of Magic, by Sean Greenwood._

He nodded, and she resumed. "Now, I want you to focus on bringing your magic to the surface, and _letting it remain there!_" she said, stressing the end of the sentence. "You will conserve it, neither expending it, nor letting it go, until a time will come when it will be there permanently, without requiring any thinking. You will find that as soon as you have accomplished this, you will be able to sense everything magical around you. Your own magic will interact with the world around you, letting you know what is magical, and what is not. After some time, you may even be able to sense the type of magic on any object, depending on your abilities. Other, lesser wizards, have a watered down version of this power –_not _Voldemort or this Dumbledore of whom I hear, they are much, much better at it than you are."

He nodded, excited to begin, and she gave him appropriate directions, and let him begin.

He reached into himself, and his magic responded readily, rushing through him, soothing his aches wonderfully. However, it strained to get out of his being, and so he pushed it back in. Immediately, it withdrew straight back into him, leaving him colder.

He grit his teeth in frustration, and pulled it out again, only for the entire cycle to repeat.

Thirty minutes later, dripping with sweat and panting, he'd managed to bring it to equilibrium, and he felt the tingling in his skin again, but this time, it was content to remain there. He schooled himself to remain calm, as he realised his mistake today. His energy was being converted to both a different kind of energy and work, so if he could keep the energy constant, and minimize the converted or dissipated energy, he could perform maximised, economic work. Simply put, he'd been wasting more magic than necessary today morning.

Sadly, being a wizard, Harry could never know that he'd just figured out the First Law of Thermodynamics in a very twisted, roundabout way.

He relished in his success for a few minutes, even though it was tough work to keep his magic stable. And then, out of nowhere, Calli's aura hit him, and he went crazy. Instinct, nothing but pure, sexual instinct seized him, and he suddenly wanted to get his hands on the Succubus and rip her clothes off before –

He grunted, trying to ignore it, but it kept pushing at him, coming at him like the waves of a Tsunami, until he snapped.

He tore his eyes open with a primal snarl and leapt at the Succubus, latching onto her lips and kissing her for all he was worth. He tore madly at her dress, eager to feel her skin under his hands, until she lashed out and sent him flying with a rough punch, but did not lessen up on her aura. Not noticing that his magic was once again dropping to alarming proportions, he let go of his control, and seized her again, managing to grab her only for a second or two, before going limp as the darkness seized him.

He awoke slowly again, groaning. His muscles were crying in pain, "Magical Exhaustion again?" he croaked. He saw Dobby lingering anxiously at the doorway with vials of Potions, but Calli was obviously holding him back.

"Pathetic, Apprentice!" she said, disgust etched on her face. "You allowed yourself to be distracted, and you lost control completely! You attacked your own teacher," once upon a time, Calli would have leered at him and joked about him, but the woman in front of him was a different person, "you will be running twenty extra laps tomorrow. I expect better from my student – I will not have you throwing yourself at me like some _filthy_ man-whore!" he winced, but let it slide for the third time of the day.

"Calli, please," he attempted to begin, "hear me out –"

"There is no Calli anymore," said the Succubus coldly, "I am your master, and you will address me as such. Five-thirty tomorrow, tardiness will not be tolerated. Let your elf attend to you. I had expected to start on wandless magic," his heart sank, "but it seems you are to weak –"

"No," protested Harry, "I can-" he shut up sharpish as she raised her tail.

Smirking she said, "Good, you get the hint. Do not question my judgement, or my abilities," she finished.

"Sadistic bitch," he whispered, as she left the room.

"Five more laps tomorrow!" her voice wafted down the hall, and he let out a wail of despair.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**16****th**** August, 1995**

**Grimmauld Place, London**

"Your Hogwarts letters," said McGonagall as she placed them on the table, "and Mr. Potter's as well."

"Isn't Harry missing, or did I miss-"

"I am well aware of the fact that he is missing, Ms. Tonks. Perhaps you have an idea to get this letter to him?" the Deputy Headmistress asked.

"NADA, Professor," said Tonks, chewing on a piece of toast. "We tried everything, even post owls just circle for a bit before sitting back down on their perches when we try to mail him. He's well and truly hidden," she admitted, a bit ashamed that the entire Order had been fooled by a teenager, despite having even Aurors amongst their numbers."

"Indeed," said Minerva, "in fact, I am unsure as to whether I am impressed by him, or annoyed."

"Come on, Minnie," said the twins jovially, "you know Harry's your favourite student, you could never be annoyed by him!"

"I see Mr. Black has been rubbing off on you –" she began, but Sirius cut her off.

"What treachery is this, Minnie-love!?" he asked, in mock despair. "I thought _I_ was your favourite student?! How has another replaced me in your heart, and that too, my own Godson?! Did I not love you enough? Was I not devoted enough? Do you not remember all those _magical_ evenings we spent together in your office?! Tell me what has transpired, that you could look past my love and seek solace in the arms of another!" by the end of his passionate speech, Sirius was on his knees in front of McGonagall, and the others, including Ginny, were howling with laughter.

Minerva's lips twitched as she tried to act displeased, but her eyes were shining a bit as she beheld the transformation one of her favourite (though she would never admit it) students had undergone in a matter of days. He was now well groomed, with the twinkle back in his life, puttering about the house and brightening everybody's day up with his jokes and charm, just like the old days.

"I assure you, Black, you remain first and foremost in my heart," she said, and Sirius let out a crow of victory and moved to hug her. Her wand was out in a flash.

"One more move, Sirius, and you will be a holding a haddock the next time you urinate," she threatened, and Sirius stopped short.

"Ah, that old Minnie fire," he said, nostalgically, and Minerva finally cracked. "Enough with you already, Sirius Black," she said, cuffing him on the head, and blushing and laughing when he touched the spot where her hand at hit and pretended to look lovesick.

"Oh no, Harry's not her favourite student," said Fred gravely.

"Because favourite students don't get Nimbus 2000's," said George.

"That was paid for by the school, and later by Mr. Potter," interjected Minerva.

"Or get private dance lessons for the Yule Ball," said Fred.

"He was a Hogwarts champion," said Minerva, "he had to be able to dance better than my other Lions."

"Or get visited by the Head of the House secretly at night whenever he's in the Hospital Wing after another daring adventure," said George.

Minerva blushed, not having a reply to that. No one even bothered to ask the Twins _why_ they were out to see that in the first place.

"And surely Harry Potter, Professor's-not-favourite-student will not be getting the shiny fifth year's Prefect badge this year?"

McGonagall stiffened, suddenly visibly nervous.

"Actually, he didn't make Prefect this year. It went to ," she confessed.

Silence followed, until Fred broke it.

"I think I must have misheard, Professor. Did you say _Lee_ didn't get the Prefect position this year from the fifth years, because he's a seventh year, and a notorious troublemaker?"

"You heard me perfectly well, ," said McGonagall, her lips a thin line.

"Who's the female prefect, Professor?" asked Hermione with some trepidation.

"Let me be the first to congratulate you on that," said McGonagall, though she didn't smile. After all, Granger – – had abandoned Harry last year during his time of need.

Hermione squealed and dove for her letter, but seemed rather put out because no one else congratulated her over their disbelief.

"So let me get this straight," said Sirius, "my Godson does not qualify as prefect even though he has,

"Duelled Voldemort," said Fred.

"Killed a Basilisk and saved me," said Ginny.

"Gotten past a Hungarian Horntail," said George.

"He won the entire Triwizard Tournament, for God's sakes!" said Tonks.

"The Headmaster's decisions can override mine in some cases," said Minerva tightly, and his decision is final. "I cannot say I fully agree, but what's done is done."

"And that's what happens every year, isn't it?" asked Remus, uncharacteristically irritated. "Set him up against Voldemort, let him duel a Basilisk, let him enter a deadly competition, and give that same excuse every year. And after all he's been through, give the Prefect badge to someone far less worthy than him, no doubt, and say 'What's done is done!', like always."

"Mr. Lupin," began McGonagall, shocked at the normally polite werewolf.

"Like hell I'll listen to your waffle, Minerva," said Lupin shortly, "that's my honorary Godson you're talking about," he finished, before stalking out of the room. "Maybe you should change your mind and give it to someone who _deserves_ it!"

Sirius cheered, "Go Moony!" and followed him out of the room.

Ron, who'd been listening on the other side of the door, quickly slipped away as he heard them coming. The chain of the locket, which was hanging out of his pocket, swayed to and fro as he ran up the stairs.

The locket kept hissing and whispering to him as it had been doing for days, and for the first time, he listened.

His eyes turned the faintest hint of scarlet before reverting back to their original blue.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**August 20****th****, 1995**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

_It had been six days,_ thought Harry, _six terrible days._ Calli was about as willing to forgive him as he was to make love to Snape, and she had been sniping at him almost every day.

The worst had been the day before. Calli definitely had an unorthodox fighting style – she would brush up against him on purpose, flash him some cleavage every now and then, every time he got remotely close to gaining the upper hand. She would then use his distraction to demolish him, before berating him for his lack of concentration.

When he had complained, her demeanour had turned stony. "Objectify your enemy," she said. "If you can objectify someone enough to think of them as nothing but a sex-doll, then you can objectify someone else and think of them as nothing _but_ a doll."

So, he'd decided he'd had enough of it. Driven to desperation, he had taken out the complete Guide to Witches Series Sirius had given to him for his fourteenth birthday, and looked up the Apology section industriously. He had a plan, today, that was bound to succeed.

At nine, when they had finished training, he'd gone straight to the kitchen, and cornered Dobby and asked him what Callida liked to eat for lunch. The elf had been glad to tell him, but adamant not to let him cook. But Harry had been firm, and so Dobby had to watch, sulking, as Harry made his way around the kitchen, cooking for his Succubus teacher.

At 12:30 sharp, he was knocking on the door – they no longer ate together.

"Enter," she called, and he walked into the room, and almost fell over, tray in hand. She was, surprises of surprises, completely naked. He sighed, doing his best to avert his eyes. What should he have expected, after all? She was a Succubus, and on top of that, she had every right to be naked in the privacy of her own room.

"I – I made lunch for you today, Master," he said, his eyes downcast. "You have done much for me these past days, and I wanted to show you some appreciation."

"It was unnecessary," she said, "I am merely doing it to fulfil a life-debt," her voice was completely emotionless. He sighed, unable to help it, and even though he couldn't see it, her violet eyes softened ever so slightly. "However, it is not unwelcome," she said.

"Set it on the table," and he smiled and did so. "She got up, and took a spoonful of the pie, before nodding her head, "it is much appreciated, Apprentice."

"As are you, Master," he said. "Thank you," he said, with a short bow. And he meant it. He'd attacked Calli like a nymphomaniac no less than eleven times, and she'd still kept going with his training. If she weren't so distant and aloof, he'd actually think that she secretly enjoyed it.

"Very well," she said, "now let me change and eat, and be ready at seven." He sighed. Calli would have been all for giving him an eyeful earlier. It seemed nothing had changed.

Still, he had one more masterstroke. He had called the attendant from the shoe store yesterday, but not to ask her out. Flicking his wand so that she couldn't see, he left the room quietly.

Ten minutes later, he heard the shriek echo through the house as Calli discovered the pairs of shoes in her closet – every one she'd selected that day.

He counted to ten, and she came bounding down to his room.

However, he was shocked to see that she was fuming."What is the meaning of this, Apprentice?" she snarled. "Are you trying to buy me off?!"

"What?! N-no!" he replied, shocked.

Smack! Her tail hit him on the cheek, leaving it smarting.

"How dare you?!" she screamed, lobbing one of the shoes at him. He ducked, panicking, only then noticing the armful of shoes in her arms. "You think you can buy your way out of it?! Do you have any idea how much it hurt, after thinking that I had really made a friend who understood me, for the first time in my life? Well, fuck you, Harry Potter!"

He dodged another shoe, the heels narrowly missing his eyes. Incensed, Calli tossed one into the air, and brought her tail down so fast it was almost invisible.

He watched, not sure if he was more depressed or terrified, as the shoe was split clean into two.

So he took the manly way out, and did the best thing possible. Reaching for his wand faster than he ever had before, he pushed Calli out of the room and slammed the door shut, with a yell of 'Colloportus!'

His ears rang as she screamed in fury. "YOU COWARD, HARRY POTTER! COME OUT AND TAKE IT LIKE A MAN!"

No amount of goading would draw him out of the room, he decided in terror, as he held up both the pieces of the decimated shoe, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

Finally, she gave up with a scream of frustration and stalked back to her room, the bang echoing through the entire house as she shut the door, making Harry give a small sigh of relief.

He was dreading the evening lessons, though.

He gave a yell of agony as a shoe connected sharply with the back of his head, and he fled for the basement when he saw Calli outside the window, held aloft by her wings, the armload of shoes with her.

He didn't even dare to come out for evening lessons after that.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

He crept slowly up the stairs to Calli's room, careful not to make any noise on the stairs. His watch read 9:59, and he watched as it turned 10, and it gave a shrill beep.

He stopped short, heart pounding, ready to do a runner if the slightest hint of a shoe appeared in the hallway. Deciding to go forth with his last-ditch plan anyway, he continued stealthily up the stairs, until he reached Calli's room. She was lying on the bed, reading a magazine.

From under his Invisibility Cloak, he shot two quick Colloportuses at the window and the Bathroom door, magicking them shut.

Calli snarled as she sensed him, and was out of the bed and running at the door within seconds, but he was thankfully faster, and managed to seal the door just before she got there.

"Let me OUT, Potter," she yelled. "I'm going to take each and every shoe and shove them up your ass-"

"Calli!" he protested, "please, just hear me out! _Please!_"

Two whole minutes of silence, and he began tentatively, when no words seemed to be forthcoming.

"I grew up with my aunt and uncle, you know," he said, as he sat down on the floor in front of the door. "They were Muggles, both of them, and their son, Dudley. Not the nicest people. They hated magic with a passion...I think they were afraid of it, truth to be told. So they took out their fear on me. I grew up being abused," he laughed bitterly, and he could hear her sharp intake of breath on the other side of the room, and knew she was no doubt wondering why he was telling her this. Deciding to milk her emotions for all it was worth, he said, "I grew up in a cupboard under the stairs. There was an empty room in the house, all those years, but it was for Dudley's broken toys. I was treated worse than filth, beaten if I toed the line, starved and locked in the cupboard for days if I did even the smallest of magic."

"I think, or rather, I like to think," he said, his voice growing a bit heavy, "that they behaved that way because they never really got to know me. I was a child, surely they couldn't hate me because I was a bad person at the very core? I don't think I could deal with that," he said, as a single tear slipped down his cheek. "I mean, they were my families, and everybody else's family loved them, so why not mine? So I told myself it was because I was different. They didn't like me because they didn't know who I was, so they lumped me in with their own perceptions – like I was some hell spawn or Devil's Child. It hurt, of course, but it hurt less than accepting that I was a bad person, unworthy of being loved or cared for."

"But these past few days, I have been thinking that maybe after all, the Dursleys were right. What if I _am_ a rotten egg? I did the same thing that they had done with me all those years ago. I'd known you all of two days, and I'd already formed this unshakeable image of you. And I was wrong, Calli, dead wrong. You're so much more than what you appear. You're kind, and smart, and funny, and pretty all at once. In fact, pretty would be an understatement, almost an insult. Plus, you know how to kick ass, better than any young girl I've seen."

"You should have told me," he sighed, "for me, you were thirty five years old, even though you'd been in coma. I never realised that age is a different concept for you, that you mature differently from Wizards. I never understood you, and I condemned you for that." His voice broke, "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so, so sorry! I've been beating myself up every day, disgusted with myself for what I've done. I wish I could forget it, but I can't – I did something my Uncle would have done, and that's the worst insult possible. I-I'd read up on abuse before, and it said that these things often went in cycles, that people who'd been abused projected their anger onto others, onto their own children in later life. What if I'm like that? What if I'm already turning into that? I have a precarious grip on my anger, and I hate to say it, but I'm angry a lot – what if that's a sign, that I am turning –"

The door was wrenched open, and Calli tackled him in a hug so hard that he knocked his head against the wall. Through his own tears, he saw the ones streaming down her cheek as well, and he would have moved to wipe them aside, if he could move at all.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Harry Potter!" she warned. "You are not a bad person, you could never be a bad person! You're one of the best Wizard's I've ever known!" she blubbered.

He buried his face in her hair and breathed into the smell of peach blossom, and repeated, "I'm sorry," over and over again.

She stroked his back, rocking him slightly, "It's okay, Harry, it's okay. Hush, now," she said, realising with a sinking feeling that he'd never really had anyone to hold him like that.

"You're sure?" he asked, trying to hide his warbly voice now.

"Dead sure," she said.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed. "Please, don't change on me like that again, Calli...I knew you for all of two days, and I can't imagine you any different from that."

"Don't you go saying things like that again then, Harry Potter. That hurt me," she said, her own voice shaky. He pulled her tighter into his hug.

"I know," he said, "I know. Never again," he said. "Never, ever again."

"Good," she said. "I don't think I could bear to waste any more of those shoes by throwing them at you...you _will_ be able to repair it, right?"

He gave a watery chuckle. "Of course I will. I'll buy you every kind of shoe you want, just don't leave me like that again. Went through that once, and as much as I tried to hide it, it still hurt. And I never got a chance to cry like this, and so it kept on hurting –"

Her fears were confirmed. "Who did that to you?" she asked curiously, and with a hint of fire in her voice.

"That's a story for another time," he said, his voice muffled, and she realised that he'd completed his emotional quota for the time being.

They sat entwined together in a comfortable silence, before he asked, "How old are you really, by human standards?"

She chuckled, honestly thinking about it, before she answered, "Around seventeen or eighteen," finally.

"Seventeen or eighteen is good," he said, "I can handle seventeen or eighteen." Her heart skipped a beat.

She was stunned, and touched, "Are you _giving_ me permission to flirt naturally with you?" she asked incredulously.

"Not too much, please," he hastened to add, "but every now and then, maybe I won't mind so much. And besides, I've got better control now – I can hold out for a bit longer, maybe even keep a straight face and pretend nothing's happening?"

She gave a cough, that sounded strangely like "Nine minutes!"

That is, he'd held out nine minutes the last time before attacking her in heat the last time they'd gone through their lessons.

She laughed in delight as he turned red again, and muttered something indistinguishable about getting better slowly. "Sure you will, Harry, sure you will," she pretended to console him. "I, on the other hand, think that you _want_ to do it, don't you, Harry?"

"You like it!" she said again in a singsong voice.

"Oh yeah?" asked Harry, his eyes sparkling mischievously at her. "I think _you_ like it – you seem to try harder every time I get the slightest bit better at it," he said.

She rolled her eyes in reply. "Well of course I do," she said. "If I had my way, you wouldn't kiss me first, and instead go straight for my –"

Harry got out of her embrace, turned, and methodically began to hit his head against the wall.

"Well," he sighed, as she pulled him back and then plopped down on his lap instead, "that's still better than you going all Commando on me with a boatload of shoes..."

"Speaking of Commando..." she said, enjoying the use of her sultry voice again, as she deliberately wiggled her butt.

Harry sighed, "Go put on underwear, Calli –"

"Now why ever would I do that?" she asked, pretending to be grave.

He grinned, shaking his head. All was right in the world again.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Next Morning**

**21****st**** August, 1995**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

"Is this really necessary, Calli?" he asked, exasperated.

The Succubus in front of him was dressed completely in leather, complete with a whip in her hand.

"Harry, darling," she said in a husky voice, "when I'm training you, call me _Mistress..._"

**A/N: And with that, ends the pre-Hogwarts leg of our journey. Next stop, ladies and gentleman, the traditional Hogwarts express chapter!**

**Read, and review! Two chapters in two days, how's that for you, BITCHES?! HELL YEAH!**

**By the way, the Polls remain open till Christmas. Long enough for me to get a decent, large amount of votes to gauge your thoughts, don't you think? Check out my profile if you haven't seen it already.**

**Between Ginny and Ginny+Other Character, there's only a one vote difference. 'Nuff said.**


	9. The Mandatory Train Chapter

**Disclaimer: All I own is a pair of very cool sunglasses. Since I wear glasses, though, I can sadly never wear them.**

**Author's Note: Before I begin, I've been asked when he'll get together with Ginny. Don't hold your breath, not before the next book in the series, and during his sixth year, at least. I want to build up to it, build her character along with his. If you want any flings before that, feel free to ask, or suggest. I feel guilty for leaving Luna out of this, but she'll be appearing soon.**

**Oh, and head's up. This chapter marks the return of the character without whom OOTP wouldn't be OOTP. And if you're brassed off by her lame excuse, please remember that Lucy Malfoy pleaded the same to escape imprisonment.**

**Chapter 9: The Mandatory Hogwarts Express Chapter**

**September 1****st****, 1995**

**The Lair, Godric's Hollow**

**7:00 a.m.**

Harry awoke from his dream, sweating and panting, and desperately trying to cover his pants. Thankfully, it hadn't been another dream about Voldemort.

On the other hand, he grabbed his head in his hand, and began muttering, "No, just a dream, just a dream, you do _not_ want to that with Calli, or Ginny, or Susan Bones, or Hannah Abbot, or Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot together!"

"Don't worry," said a somewhat dazed voice from next to him, and he jumped, "it was my going away present to you – and to myself."

Calli came into view next to him as he turned his lenses on, blushing completely red, and breathing heavily, her bosom moving up and down rapidly. Only then did her tail come off his head, and he blushed, realising what she'd done.

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p', "I've been training myself too, according to the old ways. I can now invade your dreams and make them the randiest you've ever had – another few months, and I should be able to do it without my tail, too! But I must say, Harry, you have a lot of pent-up frustration and magic for a normal fifteen year old, you should get a girl at Hogwarts-"

He turned when her rambling stopped, and sighed. She was snoring lightly, either passed out or asleep from exhaustion. Well, he _had_ released a huge burst of magic –

According to Sirius, though that was quite normal among teenage wizards. _Don't let it deter you,_ said Sirius, _it happens to powerful wizards even worse, though. I remember this time I was working off some frustration in the men's bathroom, damn near blew the door off when I lost control._

And next to him, Moony had sighed. _Ah, Puberty...the best and worst times of our lives..._

He tore his thoughts away from his Godfather, and set about doing his final packing. He was rather fond of his trunk, even though it was nothing special – except for the fact that it had the capability to store more than a thousand books in the bookshelf inset in the lid (a very powerful bottomless charm) and all he had to do was say the name of the book aloud, and it would appear in his hand.

Throwing his redone, brought up to mark holiday homework, and the book on Pureblood Etiquette that he'd been reading last night into the trunk, he set about getting ready to catch the Hogwarts Express, and face all the chaos his return would undoubtedly bring.

He was done within an hour, and wasn't scheduled to leave for another, so he sat down with a book – to be more precise, his Charms book for the year. He already had the standard books in the fifth year with him, and though a bit battered, he was completely familiar with them _and_ the books of the upper years too. It had been a simple matter of sending Dobby to Flourish and Blotts and getting the new textbooks from the bookstore. Honestly, he wondered why Hogwarts even bothered to send booklists any more. Other than Defense, they'd been following the same spellbooks for nearly a century.

Of course, he'd rather hoped that his letter would be carrying something other than parchment this year – maybe the other Prefects would apprise him of his position if he indeed was selected.

He snorted. Why wouldn't he be? People, hell the whole Wizarding World, looked up to him, and he definitely had some serious deeds to his name. Of course, the Prophet had tried their hardest to run a smear campaign against him and Dumbledore, but his words with Fudge had lessened their attacks on him somewhat. After all, they did have no true facts to go with their stories, only rumours and myths and legends.

He grinned. _Legends_...he liked the sound of that. His name would be amongst the legends one day, he swore to himself.

"What are you wearing?!" came a horrified voice behind him, and he turned to see a Calli in a bathrobe, drying her wet hair.

He looked down at his shirt and jeans - both of which fit, meaning he would be decently dressed when he arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters for the first time in years – and looked up again, puzzled.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, a bit puzzled.

"Harry," she said, groaning, "Don't you remember what we talked about? You need to work on your reputation this year, build up support, and gain some allies! Not many people get a chance to make a second first impression on people, but you're getting it! And you can't go in like that your second first time around!"

"My second first _what?_" asked Harry, who had been trying to solve the equations behind the Freezing Charm when she had walked in, but was now boggled by her words.

"Never mind," said Calli, shaking her head pitifully. "Get changed, now!" She dove for his open trunk before he could stop her, and rummaged about in it – Harry groaned – he'd spent so much time putting everything neatly in his place.

"Dobby," snapped the Succubus, and the house-elf, who was just as enamoured with 'Mistress Calli' as he was with Harry, appeared before her, eager to serve.

"I need you to modify this here, and that," Harry felt a twinge of trepidation as he beheld the two of them together.

"No!" he said, when Calli held up the final product, "No way! I am _not_ wearing that! It's not even my size! And I won't be able to fit in those jeans, ever! My legs will get stuck, and then I'll have to cut it out!"

"Don't be melodramatic," said Calli, rolling her eyes and giggling. "You'll make an impression with it, trust me."

And true to her words, five minutes later, he was dressed in the tightest dark blue T-shirt ever, with a skinniest pair of jeans conceivable.

"I feel suffocated," he grumbled, "I can't breathe!"

"Oh, hush, you big baby, you! The witches will be throwing themselves at you!" said Calli, even though her eyes hardened a bit.

They softened a few seconds later, "I'm going to miss you, Harry," she said, sniffling a bit.

Harry sighed. They'd been over this before. "You can come with me, you know!" he protested. "You could stay hidden, stay with me!"

"As tempting as that sounds," said Calli, "I need to get a move on my own mission. My people have suffered too long, it is time I sought a way to reverse their Fates."

"The Hogwarts Library is the biggest in Britain! You could use it to find out more about what had happened!"

"Now that you mention it, I'd be grateful if you went through the books there, and tell me what you found. Two heads are better than one, Harry, and even if the Hogwarts library is great, it's not the only one around." And besides, she said, taking a deep breath. "This is my fight, my journey – I can't ask anyone else to do it for me..."

"No, you idiot," he said, pulling her into a hug, "but you can always ask for help – I'll see what I can get. The Fidelius will remain when I leave, and you will_ not _be leaving this place," he said sternly, when she opened her mouth to argue. "We've been over this, and you can even pay for your own food and stuff, but you _will_ use this as base of operations," and she nodded.

"You will remember me, right?" she asked, mumbling into his shoulder. "There are a lot of witches in Hogwarts, and only one of me..." she trailed off.

"Calli!" Harry laughed, "I assure you, none of the witches at Hogwarts are a Succubus, or even part-Succubus, and as such, none of them match up to you!"

"Damn straight," said Calli. "Remember, act worthy of your station, but have some fun. Get into some broom closets – you won't get your childhood back again, war or no war." Again, she hated telling him this, but it was true. "You seemed to like Hannah Abbot enough to take her out on a date or too. Or maybe even Ginny," she offered, not liking the taste the names left in her mouth.

Harry blushed scarlet, as his mind went back to his dream – he'd been pulling on Hannah's long pigtails while she enthusiastically bounced – he jerked his head to shake himself out of those thoughts, and Calli laughed, knowing what he was thinking about. "Hannah Abbot I could do with," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "But Ginny? She's only fourteen, Calli. I admit, she's pretty, and she'll end up the biggest heartbreaker in school, but she's still a fourth-year, and she still looks like a kid. Maybe in a year or two," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Enough with the dirty thoughts," said Calli, hitting him round the head with a little bit more force than usual, her eyes narrowed. She was a bit relieved that Harry thought about the mysterious Ginny in that light, but what she was worried about was Ginny's reaction when she found out how Harry thought of her – and how far she would go to break that image of her in his eyes.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, _she thought with some trepidation.

"Oh, so it's fine as long as they're about you?" Harry's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Yes," she replied smugly. "Glad we straightened that out."

Harry laughed, and they stayed in the hug for a while - really, he could get used to all the physical contact – until he whispered softly, "And don't worry," he said with a snort, "I really couldn't forget you. I think you scarred me for life this summer –"

She reached up next to his ear, and whispered sultrily, "Oh, but I think you _liked_ it!" she said in her singsong voice.

This had become something of a game for the two of them, but this time Harry went for her ear instead, and whispered, in the same singsong voice, "You know I _did_!"

And without missing a beat, he pulled smoothly out of the hug, and went back upstairs to his room, to see if he had left anything behind. He laughed, glad to be able to finally retaliate a bit against her merciless teasing.

Calli stood there for a second or two, her mouth open, until –

"Harry Potter! You come down and explain at once!"

Harry laughed, as he found only the lone sock under his bed, and bounded downstairs to chuck it in, where a flustered Succubus awaited.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**September 1****st****, 1995**

**9:30 p.m.**

Harry's Reducio'd and weightless trunk didn't feel any heavier in his bag, even though he'd just refilled his money for the year, still leaving behind a healthy amount in his trust vault. The last goodbye with Calli had been quite emotional, he hated to say, and he was already missing her capricious mannerisms.

He sighed, thinking of a way to keep in touch with her after school began, as he pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag, and threw it over him after selecting a covert spot.

Changing his direction, he took the lane next to Gringotts instead of the beaten track, making his way into Knockturn Alley.

It was the same as he remembered, dark and dank and filthy, with an evil aura permeating the air. The shops down here were nowhere near as bright as their Diagon Alley counterparts, and some of the things on display sent shivers down his spine.

On a whim, he pulled up his magic to the surface, and let it remain there – without Calli's interference, he was able to now hold it for nearly four hours, something he was immensely proud of. His spellwork had increased in leaps and bounds, and his magic was now constantly close to the surface, humming and buzzing.

He waited for a few seconds for his magic to tune to the surroundings and straightened a bit as everything came into focus. The magic around him had a kind of heavy silence and stillness to it, as opposed to the usual flux, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the smallest tendrils of evil intent coming of them.

He felt excited at the prospect – Calli had said that some wizards had a knack for sensing magical intent, could it be that he was one of them?

_I love magic,_ he thought to himself, as he pushed open the door to the shop he had been looking for, the bell tingling as he made his way in, pulling the cloak off before he entered.

"We don't sell to children," came a gruff voice from the old voice at the counter, before he recognized the customer in question, _"Oh."_

"And what brings you here today, Mr. Potter?" asked the shopkeeper, his rotten teeth showing as he grinned. "Surely you should be on your way to Platform Nine-and-Three Quarters, instead of hanging about shops of _questionable_ repute?"

"Not very profitable to downplay your own store like that," offered Harry, and the old man chuckled.

"Indeed. I repeat, what brings you here? Surely all the standard materials for a Hogwarts level potioneer is at Diagon Alley?"

"Not buying today," said Harry, "I'm rather more interested in selling."

"And what might you want to sell, Mr. Potter?"

He held up a vial he had been carrying around for some time, and was eager to get rid of, even though it had unbreakable charms on it.

"Merlin's Beard," whispered the man, his eyes widening to the size of galleons. "Undiluted Basilisk venom...so the rumours are true after all, then?"

"Neither confirmed, nor denied, Sir," said Harry, and the old man gave an appreciative laugh.

"Careful, Mr. Potter, some might think you a closet Slytherin there," before his tone became businesslike. "50 galleons straight."

"For a vial of Basilisk venom?" asked Harry with a derisive laugh. "Don't treat me like a child, to be fooled and hoodwinked, Mr. Iceman. I know exactly how rare an ingredient this is, and how much it's worth. Some wandmakers I know would even _kill_ to experiment with it, let alone Potion Makers."

Judging from the glint in the shopkeeper's eye, he knew he'd made his point.

And he was inordinately pleased, when he left with his pockets another seven hundred and fifty galleons richer, with only half the price for the venom paid. The other half was promised to him by the contract in his bag, which would come into effect immediately after Iceman made his profits from it.

He was glad to be out of the shop, though, and shot of the Basilisk Venom, which he'd extracted from the lone fang he had left with him after the Chamber incident. He had no use for the money, though. His only aim was to set himself as a player amongst the shadier side of the Wizarding Community, and build up some pull for him there. As he pulled on the Cloak again, he grinned as he saw old man Iceman already putting up a 'Closed' sign on his shop, and heading towards the nearest pub, no doubt to recount his story of the sale.

_I love it when an idea pays off_, thought Harry, and indeed, this was an idea that he had been juggling for a few days.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, he almost missed the Magical Aura in the sea of darkness that surrounded him. Stunned out of his thoughts, he walked towards it, and looked through the window of Borgin and Burkes at the object in question.

He glanced quickly at his watch, and saw there was an hour and ten minutes to go before the train left. His plan was to get there as late as possible, and get on the train, so that he couldn't be ambushed by any Order Members – especially Molly Weasley.

So he made his way in smartly, pulling his cloak off again, his gaze set on the Vanishing Cabinet. He'd spent enough time in the Room of Requirement to know the magic that permeated it, even though he couldn't sense it at that time, and that Cabinet was giving off the very entropic aura that he associated with the Room.

"How much for the Vanishing Cabinet?" he asked brusquely, coming straight to the point as he entered the shop.

Borgin looked up, no doubt stunned, "Ah, Mr. Potter," he began in an oily voice.

"I have little time to spare, Borgin," he said, "your price for the Cabinet? Is it functional?"

Borgin smiled an ugly smile, "It's fixed on this end," he said with a short laugh. "No guarantees about its brother, should you think of using it Mr. Potter. Now, with its sleek Mahogany finish, and protective runes, I'd say it's about Five Hundred Galleons, wouldn't you?"

Harry left the store with Dobby (whom he'd summoned to take the Cabinet back to the Lair) in tow, the proud owner of a Vanishing Cabinet.

Calli's birthday, which he'd coaxed out of her, was on the fourth of September, and it looked like he'd managed to find the perfect gift for her. And he'd managed to solve the problem of meeting up with her, as well.

Now all that remained was to somehow find the other pair, and fix it before the fourth arrived.

_Ah,_ he thought, cracking his knuckles in anticipation, _a Challenge. I like a challenge._

He grinned as Dobby left with the Cabinet, and with firm instructions to tell Calli not to use it at all.

The elf reappeared ten minutes later, and Apparated him over to King's Cross. Seeing that there was still thirty minutes to eleven, he sighed, deciding to wander about the Muggle area for a bit.

As he had expected though, the mirror in his pocket warmed up, and he grinned in success. The idea had been taken from the Marauders, and he'd duplicated their two-way mirrors for him and Calli to use. He needed to send one to Sirius and Remus – hell, he needed to take it up with the twins for their company – he might as well contribute to his own investments.

"Why in the hell did Dobby just appear in my room with a Cabinet?" asked Calli, her eyebrows raised.

"An early birthday gift," said Harry with a grin.

She squealed. "What does it do?! It won't open!"

He rolled his eyes, he knew she'd want to open it despite her warnings. "Because I charmed it shut," he said, and she pouted, making huge, pleading eyes at him through the mirror. "Don't you dare use those eyes on me," he warned. "And don't you dare go about opening it until the right time, when I tell you to!" She poked her tongue out at him, but nodded anyway.

They talked a bit more through the Mirror, and both of them were pleased that they were now only a call away from each other – each of them knew that they'd formed a special bond between them over the summer, even though neither could truly define it.

They chatted for a few more minutes, until Harry finally said goodbye, and began making his way back to King's Cross. He was congratulating himself on thinking to use the Invisibility Cloak, though, as the Weasleys and Granger rushed past him towards the Platform, late as usual.

"Maybe he's on the train –" he heard George offering, and Molly screaming something in reply.

He grinned, and waited two minutes after all of them had disappeared, before making his way forward at a leisurely pace. Careful to avoid all of the milling and crowding people saying their goodbyes, he crept onto the train quietly, in the very first compartment available, and then pulled his cloak of, raising his arms and crowing in victory, that he'd managed to throw them off.

A mild cough broke him off, though, and he turned to see himself looking at Professors Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, Vector and Babbling, who were looking at him with a mix of amusement and surprise. Of course, he had to walk into the Teacher's Compartment – he'd only found at at the end of last year that it existed, as many Professors did go on holiday instead of staying back at Hogwarts for the Summer.

He blushed a bit as Sinsitra's eye trailed all over his form before meeting his eye and hurriedly looking away.

"Mr. Potter," squeaked Flitwick, "what a surprise!"

"Just making my way through, Professor," said Harry hurriedly. "Didn't mean to bother any of you –"

"Nonsense!" said Flitwick, "always a pleasure to see a favourite student before Term begins." Harry grinned, unlike McGonagall, the quirky little Charms Professor had no inhibitions about declaring his favourite students.

"I suppose you'll want to join your friends, then, Mr. Potter?" asked Sprout, raising her eyebrow at him. He was a bit surprised, he had expected her to be cold towards him after last year, but she was smiling slightly, even fondly at him. He realised bringing Cedric's body back had really meant something to more than his parents.

"Yes, Professor," he said, but another witch, who'd just come in, cut him off.

"Potter, is it?" she asked. "_The_ Harry Potter? Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank," she said, holding her hands out. Was this the new Defense teacher, then?

He shook her hand, and was surprised when she asked him, "So, is the word on the street true, Potter?"

"Professor?" he asked a bit curiously.

"I was taking a pint at a rather shady pub this morning, before coming to King's Cross," Harry winced, his idea was coming back to bite him in the ass, "and I heard the owner of a certain Apothecary telling the most wondrous tale – of the Boy-Who-Lived selling him a most questionable ingredient."

"What was it?" asked Professor Babbling, leaning forward, and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Babbling, Vector and Sinistra were always seen sitting together in the Great Hall, and Lord only knew that they were rumoured to be the biggest trio of gossips on the staff.

Grubbly-Plank turned to ask him the question again, "Where did you come across a Basilisk to extract venom from, Mr. Potter?"

The other teachers gasped, but Harry decided to play it cool. "I think you should ask Professor Dumbledore that question, Professor," he replied with an easy grin. "But just in case you want to find out yourself, go to the disused bathroom on the second floor, and speak to the tap."

"Speak to a tap?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"_The_ tap, professor. The tap that opens the Chamber of Secrets –"

"So the rumours were true, then?" asked Babbling, leaning forward hungrily.

"I thought Dumbledore told the staff?" he asked, mystified.

"Hardly," sniffed Professor Sprout. "He thinks such matters beneath himself to inform us, it seems – something we _will_ be taking up with him tonight, no doubt."

_Score: Harry Potter – 1. Albus Dumbledore – 0._ Harry grinned, it was shaping up to be a good day.

"Off with you, then, Mr. Potter," said Flitwick, gesturing with his tiny hands. "I hope you're done with your homework, because students generally finish it on the train and even tonight, I've heard?"

"All finished, Sir," said Harry. "In fact, I had a question to ask you...I'll see you after our first class then, Professor?"

"By all means, Mr. Potter, I daresay you can ask me now. We teachers have got nothing better to do on the train, in fact," squeaked the tiny Professor. "How can I help you?"

"It's about a bit of extra reading I did, Professor," and Flitwick raised his eyebrows, motioning for him to continue, "I've encountered a lot of Dark Magic in my short life, Professor –"

"Not least the Tournament last year," added Sprout, who was clearly listening in, and there was a short laugh around the Compartment. Harry grinned a bit, he had them eating out of his palm already.

"What I want to know is, Professor, why have I never come across anything called Light Magic? Surely there must be something like that, or it would defeat the point of Dark Magic, wouldn't it? The Dark can't exist without the Light, or vice-versa, but I never found any evidence of light magic anywhere."

"An interesting question indeed, Mr. Potter, and one I deal with quite often with my Ravenclaw students. Tell me, if you conceived Light Magic, what would be some spells you put in the category?"

"The Patronus Charm," said Harry, without thinking.

Flitwick's eyebrows rose, "You know of that spell?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I had a bad reaction to Dementors in my third year, Professor," he confessed, "Professor Lupin taught me how to repel them."

"You can cast a Patronus?" asked the Charms Professor, shocked.

Instead of replying, Harry pulled his wand out, and chanted, "Expecto Patronum!" The silver mist came out from his wand tip in swirls, coalescing to form the familiar silver stag.

The teachers' eyes widened to the size of Galleons, "Merlin's Beard!" said the Professor, "I always knew you had latent talent when it came to charms since last year's Task with the Dragon, Mr. Potter, but this is beyond my wildest expectations!"

"Indeed," said Grubbly-Plank, "I think I believe the Basilisk story a bit more now," and Harry grinned.

Professor Vector, who'd been leaning forward to touch the stag, frowned a bit when it disappeared. "Look but don't touch, Professor," said Harry mock-sternly, and grinned cheekily at her blush and the wave of laughter.

"Extraordinarily like your father, Mr. Potter," said Flitwick with a chuckle, "it's good to see that your parents live on in you, through Lily's abilities and your father's charisma." Sprout nodded her agreement as well, eyes a bit misty.

"But back to the original question," said Flitwick. "I must say I am surprised, because most students name the Levitation or Knockback Jinx since they are first year spells and generally considered useless."

"But Ron almost killed a Troll with the Levitation spell our first year, and it'd be easy to throw someone off the cliff with a knockback Jinx," argued Harry.

"Exactly my point," squeaked the tiny Professor excitedly, clapping his hands together. "As such, we may conclude that there is no real distinction between Light and Dark Magic, except for the intent with which they are used. Only Magic which draws on negative emotions, like the Unforgivables, can be classified as true Dark Magic, or if you prefer, Evil Magic. Everything depends on intent, when it comes to magic, Mr. Potter, which is why Transfiguration always comes easy to the students who realise this fact."

"Thanks, Professor," said Harry, nodding his head. "You've given me a lot to think about –"

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter, always happy to help," said Flitwick, shaking his head. "Besides, I think _you_ gave us enough fodder for conversation all the way to Hogwarts, so I can hardly complain!"

Harry nodded, and was about to leave the Compartment, when Flitwick called him back. "Mr. Potter," said the Professor, "since tomorrow is a Saturday, I was wondering if you would be willing to meet me at my office, say, after lunch? I have this little Charms Club, you see, and I was wondering if you would be interested to join, or maybe even get some private pointers, if you want?"

Harry weighed the question for a few second. A few words from Second Year drifted back to him...

_Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was younger..._

"I'd be glad to, Professor," he said, and Flitwick grinned. "See you, then."

"Really, Filius?" asked Sprout after Harry had left. "_Another_ student for your club?"

"Oh, no," said Flitwick, with a glint in his eyes, "with proper tutelage, I believe Mr. Potter has the ability to go even further than the members of my Club – besides, Club meetings are Saturday morning, and I asked him after lunch, as you can see."

"One on one teaching, then?" said Sinistra, eyebrows raised.

Flitwick only looked dreamily out of his window in answer, "A corporeal Patronus at his age..." he muttered. "Marvellous, truly marvellous..." and the others sighed, knowing he was lost.

"I heard he mastered and used it when he was thirteen," offered Professor Babbling, and Flitwick turned his head so fast it cricked his neck. His eyes, though, were positively shining.

"Thirteen, you say?" he asked, a wide smile on his face, "tell me all about it!"

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Harry grinned as he listened to a bit of the conversation after he had left from under his Invisibility Cloak, before making his way through the other compartments.

_Create good impressions with teachers, check. _Even sucking up to teachers went a long way, thought Harry, if the stories Sirius and Remus told him about their old Potions Professor was true.

He wrinkled his nose as he made his way through the Slytherin compartments, resisting the urge to hex Malfoy from his covert position. He was slowly shifting gear into the fast lane of Wizarding Life, and he had bigger fish than Draco Malfoy to fry.

There was a commonly followed system of hierarchy in the Hogwarts express. Teachers and the Prefects got the first Car to themselves, the Slytherins got the next one. The end was taken up by the Gryffindors, and the rest went to the Claws and Puffs and the firsties.

Once through the Snakes' car, he pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it his bag, casually slinging it back over one shoulder. He made his way through the Compartment, trying to act calm and composed, even though the number of people who stopped to openly stare at him was frankly unnerving.

"Is that Potter...?"

"What the _hell_ happened to him?"

"I heard he fought Dementors over the Summer..."

"He won the Triwizard Tournament, you know?" a Hufflepuff fourth year was explaining to a first-year, who was looking at him with round eyes.

"_Harry_!" came an exclamation from behind him, and a red blur barrelled into him. "We've been looking for you!"

"Whoa there, Weasley," said Harry, laughing at Ginny's antics. "Steady down there, Red!"

"I told you not to call me that!" she threatened, holding him at arm's length and looking at him.

"Did you get taller?" he teased, making a show of closing one eye and peering down at her. "Nope," he said, mock-regretfully, patting her mock condescendingly on the head, "false alarm."

He promptly ducked out of the way of the Stinging Hex, laughing at her.

"Watch where you're hurling your hexes, woman!" grumbled George, rubbing his cheek as he advanced from the other side. "Hey there, Harry," he said, extending his hand. "Nice summer?"

"The best," he said with a grin, shaking his hand, and then Fred's.

"Can't be as good as ours!" said Fred, "Seventeen, and free of all restrictions!" he puffed out his chest.

"Actually," said a voice from the Compartment they were standing next to, and Harry turned to see Neville holding a plant, "he got a waiver to perform magic, or so my Gran told me. Looking good, there, Harry."

"Neville," he said, shaking his hand as well. "Mimbulus Mimbletonia?" he asked, raising his eyebrow at the plant in Neville's hand.

"Actually, it's Mimb-" Neville stopped short, surprised, "yes, it is, how did you know?"

Harry went into the Compartment, flopping down on the seat. "Ladies," he said, to Megan Jones, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbot, who were sitting on the other seat (he tried not to blush at Hannah's customary long blonde pigtails). All three were staring unabashedly at him.

"Harry," replied Susan, her eyes wide, "how was your Summer?"

"Pretty good, but it had some down parts to it, as I'm sure your Aunt told you," he said.

"Your Aunt met him?" asked Hannah, looking interested. "When?"

"A thrilling tale which none of you would believe," said Harry with a grin, "so you might as well wait until the DMLE completes their investigation, to get all their facts!"

"Anyway," interjected Neville eagerly, surprising Harry – the boy was normally shy –"this plant has amazing Defense mechanisms. Watch," he pulled his wand out and went to poke the plant.

"No, Neville!" began Harry, but it was too late. Panicking, he pulled his wand, and shouted 'Arresto Momentum!'

The Stinkstap stopped millimetres away from his face, but the others, as well as the twins, who'd followed him in, got mouthfuls of the stuff.

"What the hell happened here?" asked Ginny, also entering the compartment. "I leave you three gits alone for five seconds to say Hi to Michael, and you end up covered in this muck?"

"Not me," piped up Harry cheerfully, and six Stinksap covered faces glared at him.

"Scourgify," said Ginny, waving her wand, and the Sap disappeared in an instant.

"New wand, then?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows at it.

"Yeah, works like a charm," said Ginny with a grin. "Care to test my Bat-Bogey Hex now?"

"After what you did to Fred's nose? Not a chance in hell, Red!"

All three girls exchanged interested glances. Harry bantering with the littlest Weasley?

"What was that stuff, anyway, Neville?" asked Fred, a gleam in his eyes.

"Stinksap," answered Harry, "and you're damn lucky the plant wasn't older, because it would be acidic. Damn near took out Krum's eye in the Maze, he told me."

The temperature in the Compartment fell faster than possible, and Harry realised – too late – that there were three Hufflepuffs right opposite him.

The question hung in the air like a dead weight, and in the end, it was Megan who asked him, "What happened in the last Task, Harry? Is it true, what Dumbledore said?"

"The Prophet thinks you and Dumbledore are barking, mate," piped up Fred, "but then again, since when is the Prophet accurate?"

"He's back, isn't he?" said Susan, fearfully. "My Auntie was telling only last night, the signs were all there, from his last rise..."

"But the Prophet..." began Megan, but Susan cut her off, angrily this time. "The Prophet is bullshit, Megan! They get the facts wrong every time! For Merlin's sakes, they've been calling my Aunt a lesbian ever since she made Head of the DMLE, and poking fun at her love life!"

"But all we've got to go upon..."

"Is my word and Dumbledore's?" asked Harry a bit coldly. There was only silence in the compartment, but that was answer enough. "Give it a year, Megan," he said, "in no time at all, I'll be going back to the Wizarding World's Golden Boy, and Dumbledore will become the Prophet's reincarnation of Merlin again."

She opened her mouth to argue again, but Harry cut it off.

"For God's sakes, Jones, I don't give a rat's arse if you believe me or not! I've got my own battles to fight, and I don't give a damn if some people believe me, or they don't! All I'm trying to do, is give you people some warning, before it gets the way it did last time!"

There was a second or two of silence, before Hannah asked, "You gave Cedric the warning about Dragons, last year, didn't you? I overheard him, telling his best friend. Patrick thought it was a prank, but Cedric believed you, and it paid off, didn't it?"

Her statement was obvious, and Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hannah."

"Well, I can't say it in such a roundabout way, but I'll come out and straight say it," said Neville. "Both me and my Gran believe you, mate."

"As do my Aunt and me," said Susan.

"Don't look at us," said Fred, and George nodded. "We Weasleys, we believe anything young Harry tells us."

"Damn straight," said George, "told us there was a big snake that was going around Petrifying people his second year."

"Yes," snorted Ginny, "like _that_ could ever be true."

All three Weasleys and Harry laughed, while the others looked confused. Megan still looked unconvinced, but let it slide.

"Anyway," said Fred, "we must be off."

"Places to go –"

"People to see –"

"We'll talk to you tonight," the twins said, throwing him a loaded look, leaving him in no doubt as to what the topic of the conversation would be, and Ginny nodded. "We'll talk to you about the Stinksap too, Neville."

"What'll they do with the Stinksap?" asked Hannah, curiously, as they left.

"I don't know," said Ginny, "but the best advice I can offer you is not to eat anything they offer you for the next few months or so. Anyway," she said, with a sideways look at Harry, "Michael asked me to sit with him for the ride, so I'll be off."

"Ooh, Michael Corner?" asked Hannah, clearly impressed. "Good luck!"

"You be good, then, children," said Harry in a mock-stern voice, "keep your hands to yourself," he waggled his finger at Ginny, "and no naughty business."

Ginny grinned, even though it looked slightly forced. "Right you are, Daddy-o!"

Floucning out of the Compartment, she gritted her teeth in fury. She'd had hopes all Summer, that after that kiss, something would happen between her and Harry. It seemed she'd been mistaken, and it had meant nothing to him.

She was just little Ginny Weasley to him, still, now Fred and George's little sister, instead of Ron's.

"Like hell," she said, angrily, "we'll see, Potter, we'll see. You can't ignore me for long," she swore to herself. It was time to show Potter just what he was missing, she decided, even if it would take some time to get through to his impossibly thick skull.

She was so involved in her thoughts, that she didn't notice when she bumped into Draco Malfoy. Her facial expressions changed from thoughtful to repulsed, when she saw who it was.

Draco sneered, his Prefect badge glinting on his chest, as he sniped at the Weaslette, cracking the usual jokes about her family.

He'd picked the wrong time, though.

Five minutes later, Flitwick, who was making his way back from the bathroom, found Ginny Weasley standing over Draco Malfoy and his friends, her wand tip actually smoking slightly.

He ignored the three Slytherins, whom he'd never liked anyway, concentrating on the young girl in front of her.

"Er, term hasn't started yet, so you can't punish me, Professor?" she offered meekly.

He chuckled a bit, but shook his head. "Not quite what I was getting at," he said. "That must have been exceptionally powerful spellcasting, Ms. Weasley. Are you free tomorrow after lunch, by any chance? You see, I have this rather exclusive Charms class, and I sometimes even give private pointers to students..."

Ginny grinned.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Any word on the escaped Death Eaters?" asked Harry, sometime after Ginny had left. "Oh, you don't mind me sitting here, do you?" he asked the girls and Neville.

"Not at all," said Hannah, a mild blush on her face. "But I have to be getting to the Prefect's meeting, just about...now," at that moment, the Compartment door swung open, and Hermione walked in to the Compartment.

"Oh, there you are, Hannah!" she said, "Me and Ron were just heading over to the Prefect's Cabin, do you want to join us? Oh...Harry, hi!" she said, a bit flustered.

Harry just nodded his head coolly, but didn't say anything else. From behind Hermione, Ron was looking at him with an expressionless face, the shiny new badge glinting on his chest.

Disbelief rose in his chest, something that was mirrored on the other's faces. "You and Ron?" asked Hannah a bit uncertainly, before hurriedly adding, "sure, I'd love to!"

The three of them left, before the situation got any more awkward. At the same time, a Ravenclaw girl came in, her brown her flying behind her, "Did you hear, Harry Potter didn't make Prefect! I wonder why?" she said in one breath.

Despite himself, Harry was amused. "I don't know," he said. "Why don't you take a guess?"

The girl spun around, and he could make out slight Chinese features. She blushed, when she realised who was in the compartment. "O – oh," she stammered, before suddenly extending her hand, "Su-"

"Su Li, I know," said Harry, who took it and brushed his lips against her knuckles gently, making her blush further. "We've been in the same Astronomy class for four years."

"Well, you've always been a recluse," Su began, before cutting herself off.

"Yes," said Susan with a chuckle, "Su has extreme foot in mouth syndrome, as you can see..."

"Not her fault, I know I was a recluse earlier as well –"

"Can't blame you," said Megan, "with your lifestyle, I'd be running for the hills first chance I got –"

"What changed?" asked Susan, bluntly. "You're different, it's obvious. My Auntie told me about it, but I didn't believe it at first –"

"Well, you definitely don't pull any punches, do you?" asked Harry with a chuckle, and she flushed a bit. "Well, as you know, there's always something going on in my life – Dragons after me, friends kidnapped by Merfolk, deadly mass murderer after me – so I decided to fuck it all to hell, and live my life, just in case I die tomorrow!"

"Sounds fair to me," said Neville, "especially with the Breakout from Azkaban – half of them blame you for You-Know-Who's death, you know?"

"Exactly my point!" said Harry, "and then, Puberty decided to be kind to me, making my life even better!" he finished with a grin.

"I take it you've had yourself some fun this summer, then?" asked Neville, grinning.

"Like you wouldn't believe, Nev, like you wouldn't believe –"

The girls opened their mouths to ask, but they were cut off by the appearance of a white bird, who flew in through the window.

Harry opened his mouth to greet his Owl, but snapped his mouth shut. Hedwig looked _mad._

"Hi there, girl," he said weakly, while the girls remained enamoured by the Snowy Owl. "How's tricks?" He almost smacked himself on the forehead, while he planned an escape route – Hedwig in a temper was like Calli when she was armed with shoes – accurate and deadly.

"Come on, Hedwig," he said, pleading now, when the owl cocked it's head, and stared at him with one eye narrowed, "you know I didn't mean to leave you there...and then I had no way to get you back after I went to..."

He had kept his magic close to the surface, and was thankful, as he managed to duck out of the way unnaturally fast, just as Hedwig screeched and dived.

"Would it help if I said I missed you?" he asked tentatively, and dodged a second time, narrowly avoiding landing on Susan's lap, while Hegwig narrowly avoided colliding with the window.

"How the hell did you dodge that fast?" asked Susan, her eyes wide.

"Seeker reflexes," he explained hurriedly, "gives me some crazy dance moves, if you're up for it sometime." He lifted himself up and vaulted himself away as Hedwig attacked again, narrowly missing his ear. The others were laughing openly now, though Susan's cheeks were tinged pink.

"Calm down, you crazy bird!" he yelled, and then regretted it when she screeched in absolute fury. "Can't you see I'm trying to impress the ladies?"

There was no mistaking it this time, both Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaw blushed, and at the same time, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Zacharias Smith poked their head into the compartment.

"What's going on here?" they asked in unison, and then their eyes widened as Harry shot past them like a cannonball, a white blur following him.

"Was that Harry Potter?" asked Justin uncertainly.

"He's crazy," said Megan, her eyes sparkling with merriment.

"YEEEOWW!" came a yell from the corridor, "YOU RUDDY BIRD! I SAID I'M SORRY!"

Everyone broke down laughing again, while Su grinned sagaciously. "I suppose that'd explain why he didn't make Prefect?"

"Do you think he was serious about the dance offer?" wondered Susan aloud, and the others groaned, both her and Hannah's crush on Harry Potter in their first year was well known amongst the Puffs and their friends.

Harry came back ten minutes later, limping slightly, and he winced when he sat down on the seat. Hedwig was on his shoulder, looking inordinately pleased with herself.

"I'll go strangle you in the Library one day, just you see," he said threateningly. Hedwig hooted at him, narrowing an eye.

"No, you're right, I won't," said Harry with a laugh. "I did miss you," he said, preening her feathers under her neck like she enjoyed, and her gaze softened. "You'll always be my oldest and best friend, won't you, girl?"

Hedwig gave a low hoot, before nuzzling her head against Harry, who laughed at her ticklish feathers.

"Did you just talk to your Owl?" asked Megan incredulously.

"That's not just any owl," said Harry, affronted, "this is Hedwig!" as if that explained everything. Even the owl drew herself up, and looked at her imperiously.

She opened her mouth again, but Neville shook his head. "Don't," he said, "Harry and Hedwig, they're different. I swear they'll have a familiar bond one day, if they don't already..."

"A familiar?" asked Su, excited. "That's wicked! Your owl will be able to converse with you..."

"That's fantastic bullshit," said Harry calmly, and she clammed up, stunned. "I don't know about familiar bonds, but Hedwig and I understand each other perfectly, don't we, girl? And besides, the only thing a Familiar bond does is to extend the life of the animal in question, or the partner, so that they live and die together." He turned his head to Hedwig, his voice extremely stern. "Don't _you_ go dying on me anytime soon," he told her, scrunching his eyebrows together.

She hooted softly again, and nuzzled him. "And that's a promise you'll keep," he said gruffly, making the girls go a little misty-eyed.

"Found love in your owl then, Potter?" came a derisive voice, and he turned to see Malfoy, who strangely looked a bit worn out, "if bestiality's the best you can do..."

Hedwig hooted angrily, but Harry shushed her. "Why don't you go for a fly, girl? I promise I'll see you tomorrow morning with some food..."

She turned his head towards him and hooted accusingly, and he raised his arm and said, "I promise," with a grin, and satisfied, she took off outside.

"Touching –" sneered Malfoy.

"Shove off, Draco," said Harry calmly, like Malfoy was unworthy of his notice. "I have better things to do than have my time wasted by you –"

Malfoy opened his mouth to retaliate, but Harry beat him to it. He cracked, deciding to use a line he'd read in a Muggle novel, and had been dying to use ever since, "Malfoy, if I wanted my comeback, I'd have wiped it off your Mum's chin. Now sod off and leave me alone!"

Megan and Su groaned, while Susan wrinkled her nose. Neville, on the other hand, grinned in delight.

"Why you bastard –" Malfoy's wand was out in a flash, but he was blown back out of the compartment and against the wall before he could even open his mouth. Crabbe and Goyle tried to pull out theirs, but Harry stopped them by pointing his wand at them, "Give me a reason," he said, "give me one more reason, and I swear the next one will carry you straight off the train!"

He watched in satisfaction as they grabbed an unconscious Malfoy and scurried away, going back into the compartment.

"That was gross, Harry!" complained Su in disgust.

"But highly enjoyable, sadly," said Susan, with a slight grin. "What?" she asked a bit defensively, "my Aunt's DMLE head, I've heard much worse amongst the Aurors –"

"I think it was brilliant!" said Neville. "I can't get it out of my head, I have to use it on someone now!" he said.

"I know the feeling," said Harry with a grin, "just don't go picking fights, eh, Neville?"

"Neville, pick fights?" snorted Su, before she could help it, and she blushed. Neville grimaced as well.

"You don't know our Neville, then," said Harry warmly. "Did I tell you about the time he followed me to the a Cerberus' lair, or took me and Ron and Hermione together all at once in the Common Room at night?"

The next Hogsmeade weeked, Neville, who was on a date with Su Li, decided that Harry Potter was a Prince amongst men, even though he had a habit of widely exaggerating the tales of the valour of his friends – Su was still asking Neville to demonstrate how he'd knocked out both Ron and Hermione with one single spell.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"May I help you with your bags, ladies?" he asked smoothly, as Hannah and Susan disembarked from train with him. They blushed mildly and nodded their assent, and he took one on each shoulder, his own bag shrunk and in his pocket.

All in all, it had been one of his better rides to Hogwarts, and he told the two of them as much, making them appear quite pleased.

It was his turn to blush, though, when both of them kissed him on the cheek, thanking him prettily for being so kind.

Even though they laughed as he pretended to clutch his heart and swoon, one he was walking with them, they shot each other glares behind his back.

After a minute of silent but furious conversation, Hannah shook her left arm behind his back quickly, while Susan shook her left.

Susan landed paper, Hannah landed scissors, and the redhead swore silently, while Hannah moved to take Harry's arm.

She was cut off, however, when Harry swore loudly. Ginny Weasley, from Michael Corner's side, held up an empty birdcage and winked at Harry, who said, "You minx! You let Hedwig out when you knew she was mad at me!"

Ginny merely laughed, but then took off running with a delighted shriek, as Harry gave a growl and ran after her.

The two Puffs were left giving the younger Gryffindor death glares, not even realising that Harry had taken their bags with him.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Ginny glared at Harry as she took a seat next to him, crossing her arms over her chest. Fred and George, who'd come into the Hall, howled with laughter as they took the seats opposite to her, at the sight of the cute little Devil Horns poking out of her head.

Nothing she'd tried would remove them, and not even death threats or promises of retaliation could get Harry to remove him.

The boy in question excused him to go and return the bags to the two Puffs, who thanked him again, and kissed him on either cheek. Ginny glowered at them, but they simply gave her smug grins.

_Competition, _thought Ginny savagely, but she was blushing a few seconds later when Michael came over to tell her that the horns looked cute on her.

"Who do you reckon's the new Defense teacher?" Fred asked Harry as he slid back into place next to her.

"I dunno," said Harry, "some woman called Grubbly-Plank?"

"No, she's the old COMC teacher...blimey, where's Hagrid?"

Indeed, Hagrid was not there at the teacher's table when he looked.

Instead, wearing a shocking pink cardigan, and a smug expression, and looking at him with fire in her eyes, was –

"Dolores Umbridge," breathed Harry. "_What the hell?!"_

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Students had been Sorted, fed, watered, but Harry was feeling none of the mellowness that came with the Start of Term Feast. Umbridge, the woman who'd attempted to take his life a month back, was sitting at the Head Table – what was Dumbledore playing at?!

Speaking of Dumbledore, both the Headmaster's and his Head of House's eyes were boring into him throughout dinner, but he kept his eyes on the plate, fuming.

Finally, it was time for the final Headmaster's speech, and Dumbledore rose, spreading his arms. Silence fell at once.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! Now, before we move on to an old man's useless words of advice, let me introduce you to the two newest members of our staff – though new may be somewhat contradictory when it comes to one of them."

"It is my great pleasure to introduce, Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, who will be temporarily taking over the Care of Magical Creatures post while our very own Rubeus Hagrid is away on extended leave!"

There was a smattering of applause, but most people were muttering about Hagrid instead of clapping.

"And on the other hand Professor Dolores Umbridge! Miss Umbridge is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and was recently forced to do the bidding of a Dark Wizard after being placed under the Imperius Curse –"

Despite his fury, Harry couldn't help but appreciate Dumbledore's subtle jibe that the person who was about to teach them Defense couldn't very well defend herself. Umbridge seemed to have realised this, and was looking like she'd just swallowed a large lemon.

"As such, she decided to take some time off from her taxing Ministerial Duties, and graciously accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position!"

"You _can't_ be serious –" shouted Harry, his anger boiling over, and a hush fell over the Hall. Those whose parents or relatives were in the Wizengamot looked anxious, or pleased (in case of the Slytherins).

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, his eyes suddenly twinkling brightly, and Harry suddenly realised he'd acted _exactly _how Dumbledore had expected of him. "Miss Umbridge," he said, turning to the Hall at large, "was Imperiused to send Dementors after Mr. Potter this summer," gasps rang out in the Hall, "but Mr. Potter, however, was safely able to fight them off. Though I commend both his efforts and his caution, but I assure you, Mr. Potter, that the true perpetrator, Stanley Shunpike, has been apprehended and sent to prison."

_Stanley Shunpike?_ Thought Harry incredulously. _STAN SHUNPIKE, that was her excuse! _He swore then and there that he would see Fudge and his corrupt rule out of office by this time next year, never mind that he was only fifteen, or still a student at Hogwarts.

"_Hem, hem_," the Hall froze for a second time, as Dumbledore was interrupted again.

Umbridge, smiling sweetly, was rising from her chair and walking to the podium, ignoring the other teachers who couldn't hide the shock from their faces. "Even though Mr. Potter's suspicions are justifiable," she said, simpering, "I believe detention is in order tomorrow night for a student speaking out of turn during the Headmaster's address."

A smattering of laughter broke out in the hall, the Slytherins apparently found it hilarious that nobody had got a detention that fast in Hogwarts history.

Umbridge's grin widened, and she looked directly at him and said, "7 o'clock, sharp, Mr. Potter."

Harry grit his teeth – she was taking him down in front of the entire school, and he could do nothing about it except nod.

"Now," she said, turning her attention back to the Hall, "the Ministry of..."

Harry tuned out, the blood roaring through his brain.

He looked to his side as he felt a tiny hand atop his, and looked down to see light pink painted nails on his larger knuckles. He looked up to see Ginny looking at him, compassion and sympathy etched on her face. He looked around to see the same looks on many of the Gryffindors' faces, and looked back down at the wrist, his anger receding slightly.

He smiled, while a tiny part of him strangely wanted to giggle at how tiny and dainty Ginny's hands seemed next to his.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Mr. Potter," he heard behind him, and he turned to see Professor McGonagall beckoning to him from near the table.

She strode forward to meet him, "Mr. Potter – Harry," she began, "the Headmaster and I would like to see you in his office –"

"Why wasn't I made Prefect, Professor?" he asked her brusquely, making no attempt to hide his anger before her. "Surely I deserve it, after all of the things I've been through?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Harry spoke again. "_Why_ is Umbridge at this school? I'm sure Dumbledore told the Order all he knew about the Trial, so what is she doing here?"

"The Ministry cleared –"

"Both you and I know what the Ministry's playing at, Professor!" he hissed angrily, "and I'm sure Dumbledore does to! I'll ask again, _what _is she doing here?"

"Mr. Potter," she said, drawing herself up to full height, "it is not your place to question the workings of Hogwarts school!"

"Then, Professor, it is neither yours, nor the Headmasters, nor his little group's place to question my personal life. Both you and I know that I have done nothing at school to warrant a visit to the Headmaster's office, so forgive me when I decline the offer. Goodnight, Professor," he finished angrily, and strode off before she could rebuke him, or he was not to question why the Headmaster had called for him, but to simply follow his Head of House's orders.

Regret was etched clearly upon her face as she watched the fifth-year Gryffindor leave the Hall, and his friends, who'd been waiting for him, leave the Entrance Hall together to go upstairs.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"You want to tell us what all that was about? Why does she hate you so much?" Fred asked as they made their way up the stairs – the three Weasleys and Harry.

He muttered a quick password to a tapestry, and indicated them to follow him inside. "Cool!" said George. "Where does it lead?"

"Seventh floor corridor," he said shortly, and the Twins nodded, impressed.

He gave them a quick rundown of the trial, from his vision, to the Trial itself. He left out the Prophecy and Calli, that could wait – and frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I Portkeyed out of there," explained Harry, "I'd reconfigured it to take me to my Hideout instead. Spent the summer there, alone, happy, and training."

"Are you going to tell us where that is?"

"Can't," he said regretfully, "it's under the Fidelius – telling more people would dilute the Charm, the one in Grimmauld Place should barely be holding together..."

George whistled, "You pulled out all stops, didn't you?" he asked.

"I did," said Harry, "and now that we're done trading stories, I must bid you goodbye for tonight." He took his Cloak out of his unshrunk bag, and threw it over himself.

"Where are you off to?" asked Ginny.

"The Owlery," said Harry, "I need to get a letter to my lawyer – I'll be damned if I'm going down without a fight!"

He strode of before they could protest, activating the Marauder's Map under his Cloak. Fifteen minutes later, he was climbing the steps to the Owlery. Hedwig came flying down to meet him as he pulled some parchment and quill out of his bag and began to write.

He conjured a ribbon when he was done, and tied the scroll up, before tying it to Hedwig.

"Get this to , girl," he said, "I don't care if you have to wake him up, peck his hand off, but get him to write a damn reply to me as soon as possible!"

His owl hooted in compassion, sensing that he was in a bad mood. She nibbled softly at his earlobe, before taking off into the night sky. He watched her go, walking out of the Owlery to follow her progress, before sinking down on the steps with his head in his hands. He thought of calling Callida, but pushed the idea away.

She would probably be asleep, and he also needed some time to think things through by himself.

He gave a long, drawn out sigh. It was going to be a bad, _bad _year...

**Author's Note: Three for three, hell yeah! The end of exams and a day at home means faster updates for all your readers out there!**

**Broke 200 reviews, but surely three back-to-back chapters deserve some love, so R&R your hearts out! You know you want to...you know you **_**like **_**it!**

**PS – Forgive my Fred and George gaffe, as a reviewer pointed out. I'll come back to that later.**


	10. First Days Were Never This Hectic

**Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Of course, if you're a movie fan, you'd probably think half the stuff here belonged to me, but nevermind.**

**Do read the books if you haven't though. **

**Chapter 10: First Days Were Never This Hectic **

Ginny sighed as she curled into the armchair by the fire, the one which Harry generally occupied. Thankfully, nobody else sought to disturb her, but the Twins noticed her defeated look.

Exchanging a glance that spoke volumes, they strode forward together.

Ginny barely stirred as Fred and George popped down on either side of her, and flung an arm over her shoulders.

"Get away," she mumbled, staring into the fire.

"Ginny," said Fred, in an unusually gentle voice, "we know it hurts...give it some time."

She turned her head so fast her hair slapped George across the face.

"W-what are you talking about?" she asked defensively, trying to act nonchalant.

George rolled his eyes, spitting red hair out of his mouth.

"We're your brothers, Ginny," he said. "And frankly, we can't help but hope to get another brother in Harry through you –"

"What's Harry got to do with it?"

The Twins cocked their heads and fixed her with identical looks.

"Oh all right!" she said, throwing up her arms in defeat. "I have no idea what to do with the git! I thought something would happen this year, but I was sadly mistaken! I'd call him clueless, but no, he'll flirt with anything that walks on two legs and has breasts except me!"

"Calm down there, Gin," said Fred with a small laugh. "Let me tell you this little secret."

"You see," he began, "in Hogwarts, there is this rather common mentality amongst the students. All of you are midgets until your fourth years, even if you're Harry Potter. We could care less, who dates who – it's all just sappy childish explorations to us then."

"But, once you're in fifth year," said George, catching on, "everything changes. You're taking the OWLs, dealing with stress – you're legally an adult by Hogwarts standards. _That's_ when the older years begin to take an interest in you, to scout you out to see if you're worth a date to the Three Broomsticks."

"Why do you think Cho Chang never asked Harry to take her to the Ball? She obviously liked both of the Hogwarts Champions, but she had just made fifth-year, she was in the cool and older club – she didn't want to ruin it by dating a fourth year!"

"Same with Katie," said George, "she's had a crush on Harry for ages –" Ginny's eyebrow rose. "But she had to wait till this year to make a move. It's an unspoken rule amongst the girls – wait until fifth year to make a move, so everybody gets a fair chance – according to Angie, that's apparently when boys get mature enough to actually 'train up'. That's just how it is, Ginny. Like it, hate it, but you can't avoid it. School comes with its own set of rules and if you don't follow them, you're an outcast immediately. And Harry, for all his trailblazing, can do shit about this age-old rule," he finished, "hell, like I said, he's part of it."

"Yeah, whether Harry knows it or not, he's been influenced by this mentality as well. Let's face it, every boy wants a piece of hot older ass while at Hogwarts, which is why _they_ wait till fifth year too, to move in on the girls. That time, they don't even look at the younger ones – they're beneath their notice. It's like one of those funny Muggle traffic singles –"

"You're red until fourth year, but once you hit fifth – it's green lights, and open season!"

"Wow, Georgie," said Fred, wiping a fake tear, "that was surprisingly deep, even for us."

"Well," said Ginny smugly, "how do you explain the fact that Michael Corner is about to ask me out? He flirted with me all through the train ride, and once before dinner, too!"

"Ginny," said Fred, shaking his head, "unless you haven't noticed, Michael Corner is already kind of an outcast. The other Ravenclaw boys, Boot and Goldstein don't really spend time with him, so he's always alone at the library –"

"How do you know this?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

"Well, he was looking at you funny," protested George. "Of course we had to look into him – he could have Voldemort poking out of the back of his head for all we knew!"

Despite herself, Ginny smiled.

"Besides," Fred said, "he was without a Date at the Ball last year, too – maybe he finally got a wakeup call, and decided to move in on some girls – just the easier targets –" He stopped short, gulping as Ginny's wand tip poked into his throat.

"Did you just call me easy, Fred?" she growled.

"No, no," squeaked Fred. "I'm just saying he's hitting on you because you're a younger year student, and he basically lacks any chance with his own classmates or the older chicks!"

"So I'm not worthy to be flirted with?" she asked angrily.

"Don't put words in my mouth!" said Fred, getting a bit irritated. "I'm just saying; don't hold your breath on Harry. In fact, don't remain hung up on –"

"I'm not –"

"Yes you are," said George loudly, "and you have to accept it. It's been going on since you were eleven, and you still haven't moved past it. Have you ever thought that traces of your old hero-worship remains, and that's why you have this devotion to him?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred carried on, his voice a bit louder.

"Look, Ginny, if you like Michael, date him. His reputation will suffer – not yours, I can assure you. And besides," he said, getting up, and George mirrored his actions, "if you had really _loved_ Harry, would you have liked Michael in the first place?"

And they walked away, leaving Ginny to sink back into the chair, even more confused than she had started out.

"We need to stake out Dean Thomas," growled George, eyeing the dark-skinned boy. "He's looked at Ginny funny thrice since today morning...he's waiting to pounce, as well."

Fred nodded, and fixed the teen with an ugly look. Dean noticed and looked away, his face flushing.

Ginny, on the other hand, started chewing on the ends of her hair – an extremely bad habit she'd picked up on. She liked Harry, she really did. But did her feelings really carry traces of hero-worship with it?

After some more thinking, she realised, with a sinking feeling that it probably did.

Everything that she felt for him was tinted by the events of her first year. While it was natural for her to harbour some feelings because of the Chamber of Secrets incident – she realised that it reached out far more than that.

"Well, that won't do," she told herself, briskly, even though her heart was breaking inside. Hell, she didn't really talk to Harry until the end of last year, and before that, all she'd done was watch him from afar. With another sinking feeling, she realised that half of her attraction towards Michael Corner was the fact that he was a senior, and after the conversation with the Twins, a relationship with him didn't feel so appealing, any more.

Besides, even if she got together with Harry now, would it last? Harry didn't even know who she truly was, just like she knew jack about him. If she was going for the long haul –

"I need to be better prepared," she accepted. Screw Hermione and her terrible advice, she'd show Harry who she really was, and if he didn't like it, it would be his loss, not hers. Besides, she was a Weasley, and she didn't intend to lose...she'd sure as hell make _sure_ he liked her.

She got up, promising herself to get to know Harry better, and see if _she_ truly liked him. And even though her heart ached a bit, it was like a load had been taken off her shoulders. She was fourteen; there was more to life than just thinking about Harry bloody Potter. Besides, wasn't it best friends who made the best husbands?

"Growing up sucks," she said, as she made her way over the Twins, wanting to say goodnight before she made her way up to the dorms.

"That it does," said Fred, "though you might want to get a little taller before you can say that you're actually growing..."

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Goodnight, you gits." Her face softened a bit, though, "And...Thanks."

"Anytime for our favourite little sister!" said Fred with a grin.

"I'm your onl-" but she stopped midway, rolling her eyes.

"Good girl," said George, "night, Gin."

She was going up the stairs when Fred called her, "Oh, and Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"You might want to look into growing your hair out a bit more," said Fred, "I don't think Harry knows it yet, but he's definitely fascinated by it..."

She went back down the stairs and gave the Twins sloppy wet kisses on each cheek, making them yell in disgust and wipe at their cheeks as if repulsed.

She laughed loudly and made her way back up, her laughs subsiding to chuckles a few moments later.

She didn't know it, but she'd actually piqued the interest of people for the first time in her short career at Hogwarts, and not for the first time that year.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

It was 7:00 a.m. by his watch when Harry awoke the next day, stretching languidly, before he was on full alert.

Brushing his teeth, and taking a quick bath, he was on his way down to breakfast in fifteen minutes, even though he was appalled he'd forgone training that morning.

_In my defense,_ thought Harry, _I went to sleep at two last night._

He'd stayed up the entire night, thinking. All this mess, it came back to power...Voldemort returned because he wanted power, Fudge was too blinded by his power to see the truth, Dumbledore was too drunk on his own power to consider others in this War.

He had to change the game somehow, anyhow – the entire _system_ in Britain was dysfunctional, held together by corruption and pseudo-dictatorship. Change had to be wrought, and someone had to come forward and take a stand.

He shook such weighty matters out of his head, concentrating on enjoying his breakfast before Hedwig arrived with his letter from Mr. White.

The others at the table gaped as he piled bacon and eggs onto his plate – about to eat more in that single breakfast than he probably ate every month at Hogwarts earlier, it seemed.

"What?" he asked defensively at Lavender and Parvati, "I'm a growing boy!"

"I'll say," said Lavender appreciatively, while Parvati giggled and nodded her assent. Harry winked at them, before continuing on with his meal; he paid no attention as they put their heads together and began to gossip.

"Harry," he heard the familiar voice behind him and saw Dean and Seamus standing there.

"Dean, hi!" he said, "how was your summer, mate?"

"Pretty good," said Dean with a smile, "Better than Seamus', at any rate..."

"Why, what happened?" asked Harry, concerned – he rather liked the excitable Irishman with his 'particular proclivity for pyrotechnics' as Professor McGonagall often put it.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back," said Seamus, his face expressionless, "she thinks the whole lot of you is barking, you and Dumbledore..."

"Reads the Prophet, then?" said Harry, who had no desire to have this conversation, and was looking regretfully at the forgotten bacon. "What do _you_ believe, mate?"

This stymied Seamus for a bit. "W – well, I've known you for four years Harry, and you already seem pretty crazy to me – "

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed, while Dean said, "Damn straight!"

"But I don't reckon you're no liar," said Seamus, "thought so last year, and I was wrong, wasn't I? I'm not saying I believe you completely, but I'm content to watch awhile and see who's right and who's not..."

They stared at one another, eyes boring into each other, until –

"Bacon eating contest?" offered Harry.

Seamus' face split into a grin. "You're on, Potter!"

While the others laughed and cheered them on, and Dean refereed, Harry couldn't help but feel worried. Hedwig showed no sign of showing up yet, and she was _always_ on time.

Seamus beat him handily in the end, "You mighta grown all big and strong this summer, Potter, but that doesn't mean you're gonna beat me at Bacon-eating!" boasted the Irishman. Harry grinned, and flicked his wand, and 'The Boy Who Defeated', appeared on Seamus' T-shirt, who crowed with laughter and stood up on the table so that everybody could see it.

"You've changed, Harry," said Dean a bit carefully, while Seamus made a show of his new T-shirt.

"Don't bother," said Neville, sliding into place next to Dean. "He'll feed you some bullshit about reinventing himself after all the bullshit _he's_ been through."

"In other words, he's not going to tell us the truth, but do something fantastically stupid by the end of the year, but still manage to get us a load of house points so we win the Cup?" said Seamus, sitting down next to them, and the four of them shared a laugh.

Harry fell silent, though, as Ron and Hermione entered the Hall, before taking seats opposite each other at one end of the table. He took the opportunity to study his old best friends, especially Ron, who looked positively worse for the wear. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed up.

"Prefect duties not sitting well with Ron?" asked Dean with an eyebrow raised.

"How come it wasn't you mate?" asked Seamus. "I mean, you're crazy, but Ron's just as crazy – better you than him –"

"Oh, this you want to hear," said Neville. "Harry crossed all limit of craziness yesterday –"

Harry groaned as Neville stuffed more toast into his mouth before continuing, and hastily excused himself from the Table.

He was intercepted though, by Angelina Johnson. He was starting to get worried about Hedwig – she was _never_ tardy, and he didn't really have time for distractions.

He noticed the badge on her chest, and grinned, though, "Nice one," he said.

"Thanks," was the brisk reply. "Next Saturday, Trials. Be there."

"Complete team do-over, or just the Keeper?"

"Keeper," she said. "We're working fine as a team, no need to break that up?"

"So you're basically going to go with the same team as Wood?"

"Are you questioning my judgement, Potter?" she began angrily.

"No, no," he said hastily, raising his hands. "Calm down!"

"She did the same thing when I suggested it, Harry," said Katie as she walked up next to the new Gryffindor Captain. She ran an eye over Harry, "Wow, Harry, looking good there," she said with a mild blush.

"You know I only did it for you ladies," he said, and Angelina's face settled into the tiniest of grins.

"Don't let Fred hear you say that," she said, her lips twitching.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Congratulations, he never got around to telling me."

"Not many hopefuls for the team, anyway," said Angelina, ignoring his comment, her brow furrowed. "There's Rosabella Carver –"

"_Who?"_

"Seventh – year, new student," explained Angelina, pointing down to the table. "She says she's been home-schooled, but had to come this year – you apparently need one entire year of schooling to take the NEWTs...according to her, she's quite good."

Harry followed her finger and did a double take.

"She wasn't sorted last night," he said. "I think I would've noticed!"

Katie glowered, but Alicia chuckled from next to Angelina. "Apparently, she did it privately in the Headmaster's office. You might want to set your sights lower, Harry, she turned down half the senior boys in the Gryffindor common room last year..."

"Well, half the boys weren't Triwizard Champions, or winners of the Tournament last year!" said Katie, jumping to his defense, while her friends threw her exasperated looks.

Harry, however, wasn't listening – he was too busy staring at Carver like a blind man seeing the light for the first time. He knew _exactly_ what Sirius meant by a hot older piece of Hogwarts ass now -

"Angelina," he said fervently, grasping his Captain's hands suddenly and making her jump in shock. "I'll be there on Saturday. Trust me, I'll _be_ there! Now, if you'll excuse me –"

He did a complete one-eighty and started walking in the direction of Carver instead, entranced by the girl – she put the Veelas from Beauxbatons last year to shame with her chiselled face, long lashes and full red lips.

She was surrounded by a group of boys when he approached, but with a flash and a bang, one of them was thrown back, landing heavily on his arse.

"_Testa di cazzo! Bastardo!"_ she said, "feel me up again, and I will cut off _il tuo testicolo!_"

"Crazy Italian bitch," muttered one of the seventh-year Hufflepuffs who'd been surrounding her, as they scattered.

She sat back down, her pale blue eyes glinting. "_Figli di puttana! Maiali!"_

"Please don't stop," said Harry, as he walked up to her, trying to keep his wits about him – his interactions with Calli definitely helped. "Even if it's swearing, don't stop speaking –"

"You are Harry Potter, no?" she asked, her head tilting to the side, dark curls bouncing.

"Harry James Potter, at your service," he said, extending his arm. She did likewise, and he took it and kissed the knuckles, making her raise her eyebrows.

"What?" said Harry defensively. "Not all Englishmen are pigs! In fact, I even speak a bit of Italian..."

"Indeed?" she asked, and he found himself falling in love with the way she spoke.

"Well, I saw you, and then suddenly the words 'Ti Amo' struck me," he said with a grin. "Any idea what that means?"

She smiled, her white teeth flashing. "You are a funny one, Signor Potter," she admitted. "Are you here to get _un_ piece of arse like all the others, or do you have some deeper mission?"

"Well, I came to ask you about your Quidditch skills, but the former sounds a lot more appealing, if you don't mind me saying..."

"It does, no?" she asked, flashing another brilliant smile. Before he knew it, there was a knife embedded on the table perpendicularly between his middle and index fingers. He blinked owlishly.

"Maybe you are not as different as you think, 'Arry Potter," she said vehemently, getting up from the table. "Just another little boy out for glory and a hot older woman..."

She got up, leaving the table, when Harry called out to her.

"Miss Carver," he said, and she turned to find him holding the knife, "you forgot your..." he knew he shouldn't have done it despite Calli's warnings, but he let just a bit of his magic into the knife, "rose," he finished, handing her the magnificent red specimen.

She stared at him for a long moment, seemingly wrestling with herself, before saying, "I will see you around Hogwarts," she said, and walked away, her lips twitching, but the rose in her hand.

As one, Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot stabbed their breakfasts with extra vehemence, making those around them jump.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

It was past lunch, and Hedwig still hadn't returned, and he was getting worried as he made his way over to the Charms classroom.

"Ginny?" he asked in surprise as he walked in, at the same time that Ginny asked, "Harry?"

They laughed, and Harry said, "You first, what're you doing here?"

"Flitwick called me for private Charms tutoring – he was impressed when I took out Draco and his cronies, I think."

"Together?" he asked, and was impressed when she nodded. "I'm here for the same reason," he said, when she cocked her head in question, "though it was because of my Patronus..."

"Ah, _Patronus _Potter," she said, in a perfect imitation of Malfoy, and he laughed.

"Excellent, excellent!" said Professor Flitwick, as he walked into a room. "Now that we're all here, and getting along, let us begin! I will be gauging your skills for a bit, so that I can decide if you will join the regular Charms Club, or the more...exclusive ones with me. Don't be disheartened if you fail, you can always try again – and besides, the Charms Club isn't something to sniff at, either."

"Now, Mr. Potter, if you'll begin –"

But Harry wasn't listening. He watched, with rising horror, as a white shape made its way across the horizon towards him, flying unsteadily.

"Hedwig!" he shouted, throwing open the window to the classroom, allowing her to fly in. She managed to do so somehow, wobbling dangerously, before crashing headlong into the table.

"No, Hedwig!" he shouted, trying to see what was wrong with her. Her feathers were bent at an odd angle. She hooted weakly.

"You were attacked?" he asked in horror. "Did you see who it was?"

Another hoot; and he was shocked to see a red blot appear below her chest.

"You best get her to Professor Grubbly-Plank," said Flitwick anxiously. "Fast, Mr. Potter!"

He nodded uncomprehendingly, not really listening. He set off at a run, nearly bowling over Professor Flitwick in his haste to get out of the door.

"Hang on, Hedwig!" he said, as he vaulted over the staircases that led to the first floor corridor before emerging on the landing of the Grand Staircase. He panicked as she gave another low hoot, her eyes almost closing. Desperate, he tried pouring some of his magic into her, trying to maintain her heartbeat.

He had no inkling if it was working based on his intent alone, and he had no time to find out. He took another shortcut, and crashed through the doors of the Teacher's staffroom, narrowly avoiding Rosabella and Professor McGonagall, who let out a shriek.

"Mr. Potter, _what do you think you're –_"

He paid no heed, instead, shouting, "Professor Grubbly-Plank! Help!"

She came over in a hurry, "What's the emergency, Potter?"

"My owl, Ma'am," he said, very close to tears, "she's been attacked – she's dying –"

The Care of Magical Creatures Teacher's eyes fell on the bird and she swore under her breath, before she pulled out her wand and rapidly started uttering spells.

"I put her under a Stasis spell," she explained, "now get the hell out of here and let me try and do my job, Potter! Out!"

"Professor, you have to heal her –"

"Come away, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, pulling him away. "She'll be fine –"

"She was my first friend, Professor, she has to be okay!"

McGonagall faltered in her shock; everyday Harry Potter revealed something about him that shocked her more and more.

"Take your letter, Potter," said Grubbly Plank, chucking it at him. He caught it even without turning his head, making Rosa's eyebrows rise.

"Mr. Potter is our Seeker," said McGonagall with a hint of a smile, "and he is the best Hogwarts has seen for many, many years."

He shoved the letter in his pocket, wanting to get out of there and do something, anything to get rid of the anger and fear that was welling up within him – his magic, which he was proud to say, had been on the surface the whole day, was now threatening to escape his grasp.

"Harry," said McGonagall, grasping his shoulders, her voice kind but firm, "sit."

He shook his head, "I need to get –"

"_Sit, Mr. Potter,"_ and he looked up at her face before nodding and sitting down – he knew he'd been pushing the lines with her recently, but there were some lines you did not cross when it came to Minerva McGonagall. To his surprise, though, he did feel a bit calmer once he sat on one of the straight back chairs, next to Rosa.

"Have a biscuit, Mr. Potter," she said, "I was just telling Ms. Carver about our castle and its rules –"

"Have a –?!"

"A biscuit, Potter," she said, "I trust you know what they are?"

He took a Ginger Newt, not wanting to get into an argument over a biscuit of all things. "Now, Mr. Potter, as I was saying – _you_ are a celebrity here, like it or not. There will always be enemies, enemies who will watch your every step, _even_ intercept your mail. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

He nodded. _Umbridge is watching my mail._

"As such, you need to take proper precautions, Mr. Potter. Am I safe in assuming that you did not charm your letter to be private?"

"No, I did, Professor, I always do," he replied, and she looked impressed.

"Privacy charms are part of the seventh year curriculum, Mr. Potter," she said.

"I know," he said with a shrug. "I always did stuff before it was deemed proper for my age –"

"Indeed, Professor Vector was just telling me about your Patronus –"

"You can do a Patronus?" interjected Rosa, surprised, and then looked contrite as McGonagall looked irritated at being interrupted.

"Why is everyone so impressed with that?" argued Harry, "I've been able to do it since I was thirteen!"

Both Rosa and McGonagall's eyebrows shot into their hairlines.

"Perhaps you can find a friend with Ms. Carver here, then," said McGonagall, "she herself is sixteen and taking the NEWTs this year."

"Really?" asked Harry, interested. "You can do that?"

"Too late for you, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "You need at least two years of post-OWL education, one of them being in-school one, to sit the NEWTs. Though I must admit, that makes me even more curious to see you in my class this year – I think the very first class in your schedule is mine..."

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared just then, looking a bit harrowed. "She'll be okay," she offered, and Harry sagged in relief. "Nasty Punching Hex she took to the ribs –" she said and Harry swore under his breath. "Give it a week, and she'll be as right as rain..."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry fervently. "Thank you!"

"No matter, lad, it's obvious that she's very dear to you...I even sensed a Familiar bond nearly completed between you two...she'll live an extraordinarily long life, provided you survive too –"

Harry nodded, getting up. "I'll be off, then, Professors," he said. "Thanks again!"

"I'll go back to telling Ms. Carver how to get to Transfiguration from the Common Room, then- " said McGonagall. Her offer was clear, _show her how to get around the Castle._

"She best use the tunnel behind the bust of Gryffindor, then, on the Seventh Floor Corridor," said Harry, walking off with a grin. "Password's 'Lionheart', though I could get someone to show her around after you're done, Professor..."

McGonagall nodded, but Harry was already gone. "He is a strange one," observed Rosa thoughtfully.

McGonagall gave one of her rare smiles. "Yes, but he is one of the best Lions I've ever had the honour to teach," she said. Maybe it was time to tell Albus that Harry Potter's private life was indeed just that, private.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Harry unfurled the letter from his lawyer, before tapping it and saying, "Fortune favours the bold," the accepted passphrase between him and Mr. White.

_Harry, _the letter said,

_Pretty insistent owl you got there, nearly took out my fingers after tapping on my windowpane at three in the morning. I've been trying to reach you for several days, but it seemed that you had_ _gone into hiding, and the charms were working admirably. Naturally, you've been cut off from the Wizarding World, and the Prophet, to be more precise. Yes, Umbridge is out, but the worst part is, we can do nothing about it._

Harry swore violently, the letter crumpling a bit as he clenched his fists in anger. Straightening it back out, he continued reading.

_I have no idea how it happened, but Stan Shunpike got the blame – like that could ever happen, and Umbridge was walking free in minutes. Apparently, gold changed hands. Our hands, though, are completely tied, Harry. Innocent until proven guilty – and Umbridge has proved that she was completely innocent._

_Watch out for that woman, Harry, my less reputable friends tell me that she's deranged now, and out to get you. I would recommend getting out of Hogwarts before the situation goes pear-shaped, but once in the Castle, you have to stay the first five years, short of getting expelled. It's magically binding contact._

Harry was really starting to hate these contacts.

_Watch your back, Harry, and watch your communications as well. These people will stop at nothing to get you; I believe some of them are already watching me. The Minister has spies on his payroll everywhere_ _- keep your eyes and ears open._

_I'm sorry, but my hands are bound. I'm still working on the other case you gave me, though rats are extremely hard to find, this time of the year._

_Stay safe, Harry, and stay well. You're always invited to Christmas dinner._

_Mr. Jeremy White_

_PS – I put extensive charms on this letter. Should anyone try to force this open, they'll be in for the shock of their lives._

"Harry!" he heard a voice behind him, he turned to see Ginny coming up the corridor. He hastily shoved the letter back into his pocket. "Is she alright?"

"She will be, thankfully," and Ginny seemed relieved.

"What happened?" asked Ginny, as they set off aimlessly down the corridor, with her leading him.

"Took a badly aimed Punching Hex, it seems," he said grimly.

"Oh, poor Hedwig!" she moaned, "who was it?" she asked angrily.

"The newest psychopath on our staff, it seems," he said, his voice steely. He was surprised, though, "I never knew you cared so much for Hedwig..."

She blushed a bit. "Well, we kind of grew closer together at Grimmauld Place," she explained, "when you were away training."

"And then you set her on me," he said accusingly.

"We had an understanding," said Ginny airily. "It's like she can almost hold conversations –"

"Of course it's Hedwig, she can hold conversations!" he realised, with a start, that they'd arrived at the Hospital Wing of all places, and with an even greater start, he realised that her arm was bleeding.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"Botched up a spell," explained Ginny, "still made it into his classes, though, bypassed the club!"

"Excellent!" said Harry, with a grin. "That's great, Ginny, congratulations!" and she smiled.

"Oh, he told me to tell you to meet him either after you were done with Hedwig, or after his first class with you –"

She stopped short, and he could see why.

Dolores Umbridge and Draco Malfoy were conversing in low tones, and they looked up when Harry and Ginny walked in. Umbridge was getting her hand treated by Pomfrey for burns.

..._Should anyone try to force it open, they'll be in for the shock of their lives..._his temper started bubbling again as he saw conclusive proof before his eyes. Umbridge followed his glare to her hand and tried to hide it from view, only confirming what was already obvious.

"Potter," said Draco, snidely, "how kind of you to drop in. I was just telling the Professor here about my birthday plans tomorrow – after all, I will be becoming the Heir Apparent of two lines, through my mother and father –"

Umbridge cut him off, though. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy. Potter, as you can see, I am injured, and may have to stay overnight for observation. As such, your detention is shifted to tomorrow evening –"

"Now, they'll be no need for that, Dolores," said a calm voice, and everybody, even Madam Pomfrey jumped as the Headmaster walked into his rooms. "I think Mr. Potter has already shifted his plans for this evening, it would be almost cruel to deprive him of his last free Sunday before school begins in earnest, would it not? I think we can overlook this detention, can't we?" he asked, his voice still pleasant.

"You cannot do this, Dumble-"

"I believe the Headmaster has the right to overturn any decision on part of any teacher, by the Hogwarts Charter, should he see fit," said Harry, with a savage pleasure.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, sounding delighted that Harry had gone through the pains of reading the Hogwarts Charter – he'd done so after being entered into the Tournament last year. "And since the infraction was against me to begin with, I believe it was never your place to punish him in the first place..."

"Now," he said, "you should get your arm looked at, Ms. Weasley. It looks a rather nasty cut. Harry, m'boy, if you could spare a minute to talk about the Triwizard Ceremony?"

"The Ceremony was called off last year because of the circumstances!" spat Umbridge.

"But the Cup must be handed to the winner, and he must etch his name into it," said Dumbledore gravely. "That is how it has always been."

Harry hesitated, but followed the Headmaster out – he had just done him a good turn.

"The Ceremony will take place on Tuesday evening," said Albus, "Amos has found free time in his schedule to come and take Cedric's place in the Ceremony for him –"

Harry's heart clenched. Dumbledore's face turned grave, and he said, "Don't blame yourself, Harry," he said, "it does not do well to dwell on your guilt, especially when you shouldn't be feeling guilty in the first place..."

Harry nodded, but said nothing. "Now, Harry," said Dumbledore, and he looked like he'd suddenly aged a hundred years in a minute. "I visited your home the day at the Ministry –"

"-and no, I will not reprimand you for that day, and I will not pry...well played, Harry, well played."

"I cannot even try and convey to you how truly sorry I am, Harry," the old man continued, his voice heavy, "I placed you knowingly with the worst sort of Muggles, and did nothing while they abused you – I was too blinded by my pride to even check up properly on you, dismissing Arabella's words as over exaggerations..."

"Twelve years, Professor," said fiercely. "This apology is coming twelve years too late. I think you should try a bit harder, after all these years, shouldn't we? Why don't we start with honesty, hmm?"

He was about to make a gambit, but he went through with it anyway. "What is the Order guarding at the Department of Mysteries?"

"Aah," said Dumbledore, "I believe that answers my question about where you had vanished to after the trial. I am sure that you tried your commendable best to get answers, but the Department is closed to those who do not work for the Unspeakables..."

Harry sagged in relief, Dumbledore didn't know that the Prophecy was gone – his day felt the slightest bit brighter – it left him more room to manoeuvre.

"..as is my answer to your question, Harry. Forgive me, Harry, but..."

"That's twice now, Professor, that you're apologizing," said Harry, putting on a false sneer, "come find me when you have something to back up your false apologies with..."

And he walked off, hiding the small grin on his face from Dumbledore, who lingered in the shadows, the twinkle in his blue eyes dimmed.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Mr. Potter!" said Flitwick in delight, "I see you made it back! How is your owl?"

"She'll be all right, Professor," said Harry, "shall we begin?"

"Indeed, we shall, Mr. Potter!" Harry couldn't help but be infected by Flitwick's enthusiasm, he grinned as he pulled his wand out. He'd taken it to Ollivander's to be checked over the summer like he'd planned.

The wand maker had pronounced the wand to be functioning perfectly – in fact, he'd almost seemed irate that Harry would doubt his creation. It was common for the wand to re-establish its connection with the Wizard as he grew older, the Wandmaker had said, and Harry's wand was doing just that. He had, however, fashioned an old fashioned wooden handle with intricate carvings on it for him, saying that it would channel his power better, and give him better focus.

This is why Flitwick was mildly impressed as he ran a professional eye over the eleven inches of Holly.

"An impressive wand for someone your age," said Flitwick, eyebrows raised, "already got its first markings, I see," holding up his own wand, which, Harry saw, had much more intricate curves and twirls on the handle.

"First off, then," said Flitwick, "perhaps another demonstration of your Patronus would be in order."

Harry grinned, raising his wand, and brought it down sharply.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

It was over an hour later that he left, tired but delighted. Flitwick would get more and more excited the more complex charms he pulled off, and he was ecstatic at the end of his demonstrations.

"I've never seen a more talented student, not even Lily Evans!" he'd squeaked. "Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I will be endeavouring to teach you all I know! Perhaps we shall branch out into duelling as well – your stance and style is perfect for the International Circuits!" And that had excited Harry much more than the rest put together.

"I always knew you had unrealised potential!" Flitwick was still squeaking in delight when he left, "Just wait till I tell the other teachers!"

He'd also learnt a really impressive charm, though – the Water Whip Curse, which Flitwick had taught him to see his control. Apparently, this was the one Ginny had stumbled on, even though Flitwick had praised her to the heavens as well.

He pulled his wand out, practising the motions, before incanting, "Aqua Eructo!" The thin whip like stream of water erupted from his wand, and he cracked it once, marvelling at how the water didn't break.

"Oi! Watch it, Potter!" Crabbe and Goyle stalked past him, and he was surprised to see them without Draco. Perhaps the blond was off planning for his birthday, he thought.

And then, out of the blue, what Draco had said in the Hospital Wing struck him.

_... after all, I will be becoming the Heir Apparent of two lines, through my mother and father..._

His father's line was obvious, but the only line that he could get from his mother was...

He broke into a panicked run – he needed to get to Sirius, now! Wasn't he the heir to the Black line? Hadn't Sirius said as much? Yet Draco had seemed so confident...

He ran into the library, earning scandalised looks and hushing sounds from all around him. Rushing over to the proper section, he pulled out _Wizarding Genealogy: A History, _and flipped over to the Black section, horror rising within him as he read the relevant paragraph.

_The Blacks have always been a notoriously closed off family, even going as far as to marry their own cousins to keep the line pure, and the family wealth between themselves. Even heirs are selected magically –_ his heart sank – _based on their blood, and their closeness to the current head._

_Based on blood..._Harry groaned. The Black Family saying, 'Tojours Pur', made a hell lot of more sense now.

_And the closeness to the current head..._he was related to Sirius through his grandmother Dorea Black, a distant member of the main Black Family, while Draco was Sirius' nephew.

Almost tossing the book back into the shelf, he took off running down the corridor again. If Draco became Heir to the Black Family, Fidelius or no Fidelius, the location to the Black home would reveal himself to him.

He balked at the very thought, a single thought on his mind – _get Sirius out of there_.

"I need to talk to the Headmaster," said Harry,"Now!" coming to a stop before the gargoyle that lay before the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"The Headmaster is currently out –" said the Gargoyle.

"He's always out when it counts, you useless piece of brick masonry!" said Harry angrily, turning tail and moving off, even before the Gargoyle opened its mouth to protest angrily.

The only other Order member was McGonagall; there was no way in hell he was going to Snape...

He was already back on his way to the Teacher's staff room by the time the thought had completely formed on his mind.

He was horrified to learn, though, that McGonagall had taken Rosa on a trip to Diagon Alley thanks to some mishap with her booklist, and he found himself cursing the very girl whom he'd been trying to impress that morning.

He was left with only one option, then. Panting, he ran up to Gryffindor tower, sped into his dormitory, and pulled out the Cloak and Map from his trunk, pausing only to lock it again. Throwing the Cloak over himself, he was on his way out again in seconds. Deciding to forgo the Honeydukes passage, he went for the Shrieking Shack instead. The passage was shorter, allowing him to get to Hogsmeade and let Dobby Apparate him away faster.

The elf could come and go as he pleased through the wards, but he couldn't take a wizard with him.

"Dobby!" he gasped into the night, his sides aching from all the running, so he used a bit of magic to soothe himself.

"Harry Potter Sir called?" asked Dobby, looking on in concern as Harry came to a violent stop near the Whomping Willow, spraying dirt and pebbles everywhere, before doubling over, panting. Dusk was falling over the area, painting his frame golden red.

"I need you to get a message to Sirius and whoever else is at Grimmauld Place. Tell them to start packing, because we've been compromised, and they need to leave. Tell them I'll be there, and come back for me at the front door of the Shrieking Shack, do you know where that is?"

The elf nodded, and Harry said, "Good! Get to it!" Dobby disappeared with a crack, and Harry was left to deal with the tree.

Instead of using the Levitation spell, though, he aimed his wand at the knot, and said _'Spiculum!'_

A single arrow emerged from his wand and hit the knot dead on, freezing the tree in the process. Vanishing the arrow as he went in, he lit up his wand to find himself in the familiar low passage.

He was in the Shack in ten minutes – the place gave him the creeps even though he knew that it had never really been haunted. Dobby was there when he walked through the front door, his arm extended.

Another crack, and the doorway stood empty.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Harry!" exclaimed Remus, as he walked into Grimmauld Place. "What's going on?"

"This house is no longer safe," explained Harry, "where's Sirius?"

"Upstairs, packing," said Remus, "he took your warning very seriously, if you'll pardon the pun."

"I'll explain when we head up," said Harry, "anyone else in the house?"

"Just us two," said Remus, "the Weasleys are back at the Burrow, and the rest are off at their jobs."

"Great," said Harry, "that'll make things easier."

He ducked as he entered the room, and a heavy photo album went flying past him.

"Harry!" said Sirius, engulfing him in a tight hug, before holding him at arm's length. "What's wrong, what happened?"

"Sirius," said Harry, "I'm not the Black heir, it's Draco. He was boasting today that it was his birthday tomorrow, and he'd become Heir of two lines through both his parents –"

"What?" asked Sirius, stunned. "But I wrote Gringotts to make you my Heir Apparent –"

"No, no!" protested Harry. "I looked it up in the Library before I came here, the Black Heir is selected by Magic if the Head of House has no children by the time there's another candidate – and Draco turns sixteen tomorrow –"

"Why would he wait till sixteen?" asked Remus, "you became the Potter heir last year –"

"Last of line, Moony," explained Sirius tersely, his face grave. He bounded down the landing to the tapestry room, intent to check on the Malfoy side of his family. Sure enough, there was the beginnings of silver filigree forming around the line which connected Draco to Lucius and Narcissa on the wall..."

"Shit!" said Sirius, "Remus, send a Patronus to Dumbledore now!"

Remus complied, while Harry cursed himself for not thinking of that himself, after all the Patronus demonstrations he'd done that afternoon.

Remus went into the library, conjured a few suitcases, and waved his wand with a cry of "Pack!"

"Extremely valuable books," he explained, "can't let them fall into the wrong hands!"

Sirius rolled his eyes, and went upstairs, while Harry entered his own room. Packing the few books and odds and ends he'd left lying around in a conjured bag, he was down in the Hall in five minutes, joined by Sirius in five, and Remus in ten more.

They stared in silence at the luggage around them for a few moments, before Remus shrunk them all with a wave of his wand, putting them in the pockets of his worn out coat.

"Why the hell isn't the Portrait screaming?" asked Harry, suddenly struck by the silence.

Sirius grinned. "Ask Ginny that, it's a great story!"

"Later, Sirius," said Remus shortly. "Do you have any idea where we can go? My place? It's small, but manageable..."

"I know the perfect place," said Harry, and Sirius and Remus turned to look at him, amused.

"Are we about to find out where you went after your oh-so-famous runner from Molly Weasley's wrath?" asked Sirius, his eyes glinting in amusement.

"Haha bloody ha," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Harry Potter's hideout can be found at the Lair, 7, Wright Lane, Godric's Hollow."

"Brilliant!" said Sirius, once the information had lodged in his brain. "James' second property on the plot –"

Remus' face, however, darkened. "It's a bit behind the cottage – have you –"

"Yes," said Harry, "I've been there, and the graveyard too." He had, and despite whatever fantasy he'd built up inside him, it'd had no real effect on him, to see the room where it had all began, or the graveyard where his parents were laid to rest.

Of course, he'd taken some of his parent's stuff from the cottage, but the majority of the things he'd left at the Cottage. Calli, who'd followed him along, had insisted he take his crib, even though it was partially destroyed, because of its significance, but he had declined emphatically.

There was silence for a few moments as Sirius digested this information. "Okay," he said finally, not finding anything better to say, really. "Shall we?"

"We shall," agreed Harry.

Sirius shouted out "Kreacher!" at the same time that Harry shouted "Dobby!"

Harry blinked even as Dobby appeared before him. In all the hurry, he'd forgotten about the other elf –

"Leaving are they, Blood Traitor filth and Mudblood-friend?"

"Shut up, Kreacher!" the elf silenced himself, but his mouth continued moving as he kept spewing insults.

"He's gone even crazier after my dear mother's portrait met with an 'accident'," said Sirius with an apologetic grin.

Kreacher's eyes bulged, and he started gesturing furiously as well.

"We're leaving, Kreacher," announced Sirius loudly, "I want you to go and work at Hogwarts for a while, and not communicate with _anyone_ except the other house-elves."

"He can be taking Dobby's old place," suggested Dobby nervously.

"Right, get to it, Kreacher!" said Sirius.

"No!" everyone stopped short, too stunned to speak. Kreacher was rebelling against his own Master's orders, and the effort was taking a visible toll on him.

"I is not...leaving the Most Noble and Ancient House of...Black," he said, "I...is...never leaving..."

He turned, and started to go up the stairs, his body shaking with the effort. "Master Regulus' locket..." he muttered to himself, "Must..." his body shuddered as a wave of pain wracked through him –

"Kreacher, NO!" shouted Harry, his wand in his hand, but before he could do anything, the old elf gave one last shudder, and was completely still.

Harry made to walk forward, but Dobby shook his head, "He is being dead, Harry Potter, sir. Bad elves is being punished..."

Bile rose in his throat as a gust of wind entered the room. Before their eyes, Kreacher's body was reduced to dust, leaving the room with the currents of air.

All that was left behind was a shrunken head, just like the ones on the wall. Sirius strode forward, even though he looked horrified.

"He got me food once, you know," he said conversationally, though his voice was a bit shaky – they were all shaken up by what they'd just witnessed. "When my mother beat me up and locked me in the cellar – he got me sandwiches and pumpkin juice, said no Heir to House Black should starve, even if he was punished. I wondered why he'd go on to hate me so much, sometimes..."

"Though, I suppose," said Sirius with a wry grin, "I hated him just as much." With a flick of his wand, Kreacher's head was embedded on the new spike that had materialised next to the rest of the shrunken elf heads. "He'd have liked that," explained Sirius, "but hated that it was me who did it..."

"Anyway," he said, turning briskly now, "let's leave, shall we?"

"Is the house bare of anything incriminating?" asked Harry anxiously.

"Oh, there's plenty of incriminating stuff," said Sirius with his bark-like laugh, "just nothing left about the Order."

"Let's go then," said Harry, and he took Dobby's arm, while Remus and Sirius Apparated, knowing the rough location of the Lair.

He appeared a second or two after the two of them, and found them staring misty-eyed in the direction of the hill, beyond which the famed cottage lay.

Sirius had already started walking in that direction, and Remus was following. Sighing, Harry followed them, even though he had no real wish to return to that place again.

Tears were pouring down both the Marauders' faces when they were done seeing the house. "I held you there," said Sirius, pointing to a section in the garden, "the night it happened. Gave you over to Hagrid, and my bike too." Thick streams of tears were falling down his face, and Harry went over to put an arm around his shoulder. Sirius pulled him into a tight hug instead.

"I'm sorry," he said, sobs wracking his body, "I should never have let you go that night –"

"Sirius," said Harry, holding on to his Godfather's shaking frame, "we've talked about this before.I _don't blame you!_" he said.

But Sirius had already let go of him, and he was stumbling away through the evening like a man possessed. Harry realised where he was going after a second, and cursed – people would be out on the streets now, he couldn't afford to be captured.

He did the best thing he could, knowing that Sirius would go to the graveyard sometime or the other, even Harry put a stop to it today – so he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over his godfather, and he and Lupin joined him in their walk to graveyard.

Sirius let out a howl of anguish as they reached the graveyard and he stood before the graves of Lily and James Potter, and Harry didn't have the heart to stop him. He felt his own eyes prickling with tears – and this were probably the first time Sirius was seeing their graves. Next to him, Remus was sobbing silently as well, his face miserable.

They stayed like that a while, all three of them, soaking in their own misery, until they were startled out by the appearance of a silver phoenix.

"Warning taken, and members notified." Spoke Dumbledore's voice. "On my way to Headquarters to dissolve all charms I had placed. Hope you and Sirius are safe, contact once you are settled in."

"Well, that was short for the old man," said Harry, and the others snorted.

"What bullshit is this?" asked Sirius, pointing at the graves of Lily and James. "This Death and Last enemy deal?"

"Don't," said Harry, "I like it – it seems fitting."

Sirius looked chastised, but said, "I know, but it doesn't tell us anything about them! Who my best friend and the greatest woman I ever knew were!"

His wand was out before Harry could protest. With a wave, words began to appear on both the graves.

"_Mr. Prongs solemnly swears that he is up to no good!"_ appeared on James Potter's grave, above the original writing, and Harry smiled a bit.

His heart caught in his throat, though, when he saw the writing on Lily's grave. "_Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."_

He couldn't help the final tear that escaped down his cheeks. "There," said Sirius hoarsely, "that's better."

"It is," said Harry with a smile, "I never knew you read the Bible –"

"To spite my pagan family," said Sirius with a smile. He gripped his Godson tightly across his shoulders, promising the two people who were laid to rest before him that he would love their son forever, with all his heart.

"I'll be back," Sirius whispered to them, as the three of them walked away. With another wave of their wands, he and Lupin conjured wreaths of flowers for the graves, something they'd never had a chance to do earlier. The wind rustled behind them as Sirius put on the Cloak again.

Unknown to all of them, the slightest traces of a stag appeared behind them, white and ghostly. It was identical to Harry's Patronus in every respect. A ghostly doe appeared next to him and they stared together at the retreating figures, before vanishing away, leaving nothing in the air but the faintest smell of lilies...

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Right, guys," said Harry slowly, but Remus cut him off.

"What about your vaults, Sirius?" he asked.

"Oh, Lucius' spawn won't get anywhere near it," replied Sirius with a laugh. "As Heir, all he can do now is get into the main house, and maybe the trust vault for the younger Blacks – that's it."

"And once you die?" asked Remus a bit testily.

"Before I die, Remus, as you seem so eager to emphasize upon," Remus rolled his eyes, but Harry laughed, "I'll make sure that I transfer _everything _in my vault to something completely useless, Muggle, or to Harry's bank vault –"

"Wait, what?" asked Harry. "No! I won't –"

"You will accept it," said Sirius sternly. "I don't intend to die anytime soon, but if you don't honour my last wishes, Harry, bad things will happen."

"Like what?"

"For Merlin's Sakes, why do I have to elaborate? Just bad things in general!"

"Quiet, children!" said Remus with a smile, "now, before I rudely interrupted Harry, he was saying something. Harry?"

"Yeah, guys," said Harry, "it's about my summer, really. There's a lot I need to tell you."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**Fifteen Minutes Later**

"...born as the seventh month dies," and Sirius and Remus paled.

"Come on, guys!" said Harry, with a chuckle. "We all knew it would be something like this – hell, I suspected this myself from the second year. I admit, it came as a shock to me first –"

"You can say that again," muttered Sirius grumpily.

"-but I got over it with a little help from –" Harry stopped short, he'd told them the edited version, without Calli in it, saving her for last.

"Little help from?" asked Sirius. "You were in contact with someone?"

"More like I bumped into her in the Department of Mysteries, and we sort of fell together –"

"Her, it's a girl?" asked Remus.

"Tell me, Remus," asked Harry, with a small grin, even as they approached the house and it came into view before them, "what would you do if I told you that one last Succubus still exists?"

Dead silence for a second or two, before Sirius shook his head violently.

"No," he said, before repeating again, "no, not even you. I refuse to believe it. Not a succubus, no way is it a succubus!"

Harry smirked, before walking in through the door, and making a show of shouting theatrically, "Honey, I'm home!"

A second, and then a squeal could be heard from upstairs! "Harry!" Calli screamed in joy as she came running down the stairs and tackled him in a hug that sent them both flying to the ground, "it's you, you're here! I was missing you like hell!"

"Er, you might want to let go of him," said Sirius, albeit enviously, as he saw that Harry was getting slowly suffocated by Calli's generous chest.

"Mmmfhm," agreed Harry.

"Who are you?" asked Calli, looking up at them curiously. "And why do you smell funny?" she asked Remus, wrinkling her nose.

"Calli," said Harry, sitting up and grinning as she placed herself firmly on his lap with a wiggle, "meet my Dogfather, Sirius Black, and my Honorary Godfather, Remus Lupin."

"You lucky bastard," said Lupin, unable to help himself.

"You sodding, rotten, lucky bastard!" said Sirius, before he grinned widely. "I'm so proud, Harry!"

Twenty minutes later, both Sirius and Remus were picking their jaws back up off the floor.

"_Dementors?"_ asked Lupin incredulously, "your kind was cursed to become Dementors?"

"I thought we covered that," said Calli, with a roll of her eyes. "Why do you smell funny?"

Lupin bristled, while Sirius roared with laughter. "I think it's because he's a werewolf, Calli," said Harry.

"Oh," said Calli, blushing, "I've never met one before, sorry. That makes sense."

"No matter," said Lupin, at the same time as Sirius asked.

"So you were in coma for seven hundred and ninety years?" he asked.

"Wow, Sirius, way to be sensitive," said Harry, rolling his eyes.

"You're one to talk about sensitive," said Calli, "just because you left out what happened at the shoe store –"

"_I apologised!"_

"My first day here –"

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"What happened your first day here?" asked Sirius in interest.

"NOTHING!" roared Harry, waving his arms wildly, and Calli dissolved into laughter.

"How old are you anyway?" asked Remus in interest, "by human standards?"

Calli turned to Harry with a smug grin. "What?!" asked Harry with mock-anger, "he's a werewolf, he ages slightly differently. I had no way of knowing!"

"I'm seventeen or eighteen," she explained.

"I'm guessing Harry thought you were really eight hundred and fifteen years old?" Remus asked, his lips twitching.

"Yes, and he got so weirded out when I came onto him," said Calli, before Harry leapt across the sofa and jumped on top of her, silencing her immediately.

"You came onto him?!" asked Sirius in excitement.

"WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS DISCUSSION!" said Harry, his face burning crimson.

"I think we are, young man!" said Sirius with a wide grin. "So tell me, how was it? She had to be good – she "

"Shut up!" said Harry, suddenly angry. "Just because she's a succubus, and she flirted with me for a bit, doesn't mean that she's some sort of slag –"

Sirius was stunned. "But –"

"No, Sirius!" said Harry, "I won't tolerate it if you're going to think like that! Calli's a normal person like you and me, and she's one of my best friends!"

Sirius looked shocked, so Calli moved to soothe him. With a smack on the head from her tail, she said, "Don't mind him; I know it takes some getting used to. Besides, the git made the same mistake you did, and now he's being all high and mighty about it, the hypocrite!"

"Stop hitting me with your tail!" said Harry, angrily.

"You know you _li-_"

Harry tackled her cleanly, sending them both over the edge of the couch. She laughed in delight and expanded her wings, surrounding them both, and shielding them from view.

Sirius groaned in disappointment.

"Why so shy, Harry?" she asked sultrily, her eyes sparkling up at him. She was secretly delighted that he'd defended her like that, though, and before his Godfather, no less.

Harry, however, noticed something else. "You've changed your hairstyle," he observed.

"Yes," said Calli, the pleasure evident on her face, "you noticed!"

Her black hair was cut short to around her chin, but a long ponytail made its way from the back of her head all the way to nearly her knees.

"It suits you," he said earnestly, and she blushed, muttering a thanks.

"Are you two snogging in there?" came Sirius' voice, and they laughed, the moment forgotten.

"I need to be going," said Harry, "it's getting late, and I need to get back to Hogwarts."

"Are you going to be alright with Umbridge there?" asked Remus anxiously.

"I will," said Harry, at the same time that Calli asked, "_Umbridge _is at your school?"

"I'll tell you over the mirror tomorrow," said Harry, "or you can ask these two gits," he said, pointing to the Marauders.

"Two-way mirrors?" asked Sirius, his eyes glinting. "I have my pair," he said.

Harry had a brainwave. "You could connect the two of yours to the two of mine," he suggested, "that way we could have a four-way mirror."

Both Sirius and Calli giggled at the words 'four-way'.

Harry and Remus rolled their eyes, but Sirius stopped short.

"Wait a second, Kiddo," he said, "in all the excitement, I forgot."

Waving his wand, he pulled out one of the suitcases from Remus' pocket.

"Since your Firebolt got destroyed as you valiantly fought the Dark Lord," he said, "I thought it fair that you get a new broom."

Harry fairly threw himself at the thin package that Sirius held out – he had been raring to go flying for ages.

He almost fainted in shock when he saw the stamp on the broom, though.

_The Firebolt WC Seeker's Edition_, glinted up at him in golden letters. "No way," he said, "No fucking way in hell."

The fastest version of the fastest broom in the planet was in his hands.

Calli whistled, "That looks much better than the brooms in my time," she said, "though Magic Carpets were more in vogue then..."

"You have no idea," said Harry, running his hands over the broom, which was vibrating slightly in midair. He tackled his Godfather in a hug, at a loss for words.

Sirius, however, understood. "Just don't break this one, eh?" he said with a laugh. "This took some cash to buy," and Harry nodded his head contritely, too pumped to speak still.

"Who am I kidding?" said Sirius with a laugh. "Break it if you want, just break it on a Slytherin back! I'd like nothing better than to spend the Black money on my Godson!" and Harry laughed.

"Take it for a fly, before you leave then, go on!" said Remus, eager to see Harry on a broom again.

"Are you good?" asked Calli in interest. "There was this sport that was starting to gain in popularity all those years back, played at Queerditch Marsh..."

"It's Quidditch now, most popular game here," said Sirius, "and it will be my mission to tell you all about it – Harry plays Seeker, the fastest and most dangerous position in the game."

"Sounds like him," said Calli with a grin.

"Hey!" mock-protested Harry, and the others laughed.

"Can you take me up on it?" asked Calli, her eyes shining. "Succubi love flying!"

"I don't think you're ready for this," said Sirius, "Harry's flying is death-defying at its mildest..."

Calli extended her wings in reply, "I'm a creature of the air," she said, "I can take whatever he throws at me," she said with a grin.

Harry grinned as he walked outside, the others following him, even Dobby. "Are you sure?" he asked, mounting the broom. The entire broom hummed in pleasure, and he got chills of anticipation up his spine.

She clambered on behind him, straddling the broom, and grasping him from behind, deliberately rubbing up on him from behind. "Take it away, Potter," she sultrily whispered in his ear.

She was a bit disconcerted, though, when instead of turning red, Harry just grinned ferally.

Harry kicked off from the ground, and the broom took off so fast that the backlash blew back chunks of soil and dust.

Harry's roars of elation matched Calli's ecstatic screams as he went up so fast that he literally seemed to leave a trail of images behind him.

"Wow," muttered Sirius, at a loss of words. "What was I thinking, giving him that?"

"Wow," agreed Remus. "We are bad adults."

"YEAAAAAAAAH!" Harry screamed as he rose sharply upwards, experiencing almost no backdraft. The broom was like a jet, yet it turned with his thoughts, it seemed, as he rose to almost two hundred and fifty meters before cartwheeling in the air and levelling out with the slightest of touches.

Both of them were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in tandem, identical gleams in their eye. He felt the weight on his broom lessen, before Calli jumped off, and spread her wings, floating level with him.

He couldn't help but admit that she looked a sight, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, flying next to him.

"Down?" she asked with a grin.

"_Straight_ down," he corrected, with a smile of his own.

He turned his concentration back on the broom, but her voice distracted him, "Harry?"

He turned, and he was met by a pair of soft lips. "What was that for?" he asked, once she pulled away.

"Just in case we die," she giggled.

He was suddenly hesitant, "Hey, Calli, what are we?" he asked. "I mean –"

"I know what you mean," said Calli, her face inscrutable.

"I don't know," she said, finally, after a moment or two of long silence. "I really don't. Succubi courting isn't the same as humans," she said. "Until we meet our Chosen One, we don't really give any weightage to any casual relationships we have before that –"

She retraced her words at the look on Harry's face, "You're not something casual to me, Harry," she said solemnly. "In all honesty, I think my Chosen One is dead – after all, I was in coma for so long. I don't know why I come onto you, or kiss you, or flirt with you, I just do...it's in my Nature, for some reason. Succubi are a lot more open with their sexuality and emotions than other beings, but at the same time, we don't behave this way with just anyone."

"Would it be the same with anyone?" he asked hesitantly, and she shook her head.

"For one, nobody your age is that powerful," she said, "and I never was fond of much older men. In fact, other people would probably be reduced to soulless husks if I tried my techniques on them, or be driven mad if I kissed them –yes," she said at the look on his face, "some of those stories are true. And secondly, I don't know how to say this, but they're not you."

Harry smiled, he could understand. She, however, twitched her nose as the wind changed directions.

"I didn't notice before," she said, "why do you smell of Italian bread? One of Merlin's foreign Assassin allies had the same smell – she was one of the most dangerous –"

"Harry," she said, her eyes narrowing, "Who's the girl?"

"Er..."

"Relax, Harry, you can date other girls," she said with a laugh, "it's not like I have something concrete with you," her heart gave an inexplicable pang as she said the words.

"But it wouldn't be fair to go around kissing you if I'm dating them," said Harry.

"Relax, Harry, you can snog all the little girls at Hogwarts," she said. "There's nothing against _me _coming on to _you_ before them, is there? After all, Succubi don't play by the normal rules, do they?"

She laughed at Harry's rapidly paling face. "You can't kiss them, but _I _can kiss you anytime I want, can't I?" she continued.

"You're joking!" said Harry, his eyes wide. She only laughed, and waggled her tail at him, before closing her wings, and falling sharply to the earth, her laughter trailing behind her.

Harry shouted again, "You're JOKING, right?!" and when no answer was forthcoming, he shouted, "CALLIDA!" and went into a vertical, death defying dive behind her.

Sirius swore he got several more white hairs when both of them pulled up only meters from the ground, before Harry jumped on Calli and they started tussling good-naturedly on the ground.

**Author's Note: School is back on from tomorrow, so goodbye for now. I'll try to be regular, though.**

**You better review a lot, and I mean a lot. I better come back and find loads of nice happy people, after all I've done for you.**

**Oh, and if you don't understand the Italian up there, it's best you don't google. She's not even a major character, just a fling, maybe. And this Italian is ALL google translate, don't blame me.**

**Oh, if you have any complaints about Fred and George's explanation of the rules and status quo of Hogwarts, you've obviously never been in high school, no offence.**

**Oh, and on a sidenote, Calli's hair now resembles this character from Ah! My Goddess, Peorth of the Roses. Blame my sister.**


	11. Dreams and Duels

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. The plot and the OCs are my intellectual property, though.**

**Complete Summary: When Cedric Diggory lay dead at his feet, struck down by Peter Pettigrew's curse, Harry Potter knew the time was here. The time for the War to begin anew, and for Voldemort to try and recapture his evil dreams. The time had come for Harry to reveal all he ever was, all he'd ever stood for, and what he believed in.**

**The time had come to let loose the power, to pick a side, and fight the good fight that was coming. But Harry finds himself disenchanted by the Light Side, riddled by its old beliefs and prejudices, not really that different from their enemies. The government is riddled by corruption and inter-Departmental Politics, but in the end, it all comes down to power, and who holds it.**

**No more – this time, power returns to where it truly belongs, in the hands of the common people. The Wizengamot, though, stands in the way of this Democracy, built up so many years ago by the greatest wizard of all time, Merlin himself. Yet is it everything Merlin wanted it to be today, mired as it is in darkness and politics? Could the answer lie in the centre of all magic in Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, home to Merlin himself all those years ago?**

**Join Harry, along with a Succubus with a slap-happy tail and a dark past, and a new set of friends – with some old ones, as he takes the fifth year head on.**

**And in the end, only a few questions will remain unanswered – will the Wizarding World of Britain really change? Will secrets that have remained hidden for so long within the walls of Hogwarts come to light?**

**And most importantly, why is there an empty seat next to Harry in Potions, and why is he the only one who seems bothered by it?**

**The shadows lengthen, and time starts running out as Harry Potters enters his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

**Chapter 11 Dreams and Duels**

**September 3****rd****, 1995**

**Hogwarts Castle, Gryffindor Boy's Dormitory**

**2:15 a.m.**

It was a peaceful night in the Gryffindor's boys dormitory, as the five occupants gently snored their night away, dreaming of things that teenage boy generally dream of.

Except one of them, whose dreams had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

Harry Potter twitched in his sleep, his face crunching into a frown. He muttered something illegible in the sleep, before turning over and burying his face in the pillow.

_He opened his eyes suddenly, wrenching himself away from his meditations. He righted himself to make himself more comfortable on his throne – one of the few Malfoy heirlooms which had not struck him as gaudy and overtly obnoxious._

_All the Death Eaters in the room stiffened as the stern looking owl tapped on the window. With a flick of his hand, the window opened and the bird soared in._

_Anticipation was cloying the room as he unfolded the piece of paper. Triumph was etched clearly on Lucius' face as he saw the slightest of smirks appear on the Dark Lord's face. The others looked envious – all of them knew that Lucius' son had just done a huge service to the Dark Lord, something that would no doubt elevate his father's standings amongst the Death Eaters._

_Their suspicions were proven true moments later, when Voldemort smiled a full, lipless smile. "Lucius?"_

_The Death Eater in question looked up at once from his position, "Yes, my Lord?"_

"_Draco..." Voldemort paused for a second "has performed adequately. I am most impressed – perhaps a place for him amongst my loyal followers when he turns sixteen is required?"_

"_My lord," said Lucius, his voice quavering, "there would be no higher honour – none at all! I shall pass on word to Draco at once!"_

_Bellatrix looked livid, and her expression only turned worse when Voldemort asked, "I believe you stand to gain quite a sum when the Blood-Traitor Black, the current head, dies?"_

"_Yes, my Lord," said Lucius, "though I shall donate every last knut of it to your cause should the need arise!" Next to him, Narcissa's face turned to stone, and she looked steadily at a point above Dolohov's shoulder, who was sitting opposite her._

"_Then I shall bestow this honour upon you, Lucius," said Voldemort, "should Black be there tonight, he shall fall by your wand, and nobody else's..."_

"_My Lord," said Lucius, walking forward from the table, and to where the Dark Lord sat on his throne. He bent down and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, "thank you, My Lord."_

"_It should be mine!" shrieked Bellatrix, unable to hold her fury in, but with a sharp swipe of Voldemort's wand, she was silenced._

"_Overstepping bounds, Bella?" he asked, "I must confess myself disappointed." The change in Bellatrix was almost comical, her eyes went dull, and her shoulders slumped, at the slightest chastisement from her Master. Voldemort smirked again._

"_I believe..." he said, "that the Head of any family should be Male, should he not, Lucius?"_

_Malfoy Sr. nodded. "And since Bella has produced no male heirs, and neither has the last traitor black sister, Draco is the true heir, despite being the son of the youngest Black daughter, is he not?"_

_Lucius nodded again and Voldemort smirked. "Perhaps, Bella, your time would have been better spent servicing your husband rather than torturing and destroying?"_

_A smattering of ugly laughter went around the hall, and Bella flushed._

"_I spent all those years giving you the –"her eyes bulged as she was silenced by Voldemort's wand._

"_And yet you overstep your bounds now, after all these years," Voldemort hissed, "it seems you are slipping, Bella. Perhaps Lucius would be a better choice to stand by my right tonight, then?"_

_Lucius looked up, scarcely believing his luck. "My Lord?" he asked - his face alight with hope and desperation. Bellatrix looked stricken; her eyes were welling with tears of shame and anger._

"_Meet me at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London," the Dark Lord said, "guard my flank well, Lucius," said Voldemort, and disapparated with a silent whisper, using the tiny rip he had left in the wards to Lucius' home, open to him alone._

_He appeared in the middle of a dusty square in London, and he immediately disliked the place. It reminded him of the atmosphere of the orphanage he had grown up in, and he immediately resolved to torch the entire area. He had no regard for the lives of Muggles who lived roundabout here; the more that died the better._

_He watched in mild fascination as the house appeared before him – magic had fascinated him ever since he'd been little, truth be told._

_Within five minutes, with silent pops, the Death Eaters appeared around him, wands out. He could hear Wormtail snivel – no doubt clutching his stump of an arm, the rat had been nigh insufferable for the past few weeks. Yet he could not kill the pathetic Death Eater, because Lord Voldemort was merciful, especially to those who had helped him return to full power._

_Lucius walked forward, his eyes still alight, his wand out, and at the ready. Voldemort waited until he was by his side, wand at the ready –_

_A policeman walked into sight, opening his mouth in shock..._

_He never even uttered a word, as Voldemort flicked his wand even without looking, and he was dead within seconds. Another flick, barely noticeable, and he was ashes, blowing on the wind._

_Rookwood shivered, as he stood among his compatriots. His punishment had not been easy upon him; he was only left alive because Voldemort sorely needed a link in the Department of Mysteries. He still twitched whenever he saw Voldemort's wand, though – a reminder of how he'd been tortured to near insanity to try and break the charm on his mind. To Rookwood's horror, and Voldemort's displeasure – it had proved too strong to remove without driving the Death Eater insane – something Voldemort could not afford...yet._

_Voldemort waited another moment, while his followers saw the house appear before them. An indescribable flash of emotion passed through Bellatrix's face as she beheld the house –_

_Voldemort paid her no heed, striding forward masterfully. He raised his wand, and found nothing but paltry family charms – had the old fool thought that they alone would protect his hideout?_

_But then again, after his last disastrous failure with the Fidelius, perhaps he had decided not to cast it at all._

_Something irked him, though – "Bella!" he called, snapping his fingers._

_She ran forward at once like a faithful puppy, her eyes shining. "You shall be the first to walk in, I think –"_

_Lucius' face showed disbelief – "My Lord -?" he began uncertainly._

"_-just in case something should happen. As the only member of the Black Family, I think you would be harmed least, would you not agree?"_

_She faltered for a moment, but it was testament to her mindless devotion that she straightened a moment later, and walked forward a moment later with nary a second glance._

_Voldemort smirked as he brought down the wards with ease in a matter of minutes, while Bella waited, wand drawn. It was a simple matter – he figured that the Blacks had lived so long through their reputation alone, if their protection was anything to go by._

_Bella walked in, using a simple unlocking charm on the door. There was a moment of silence, before she re-emerged from the dark hallway, her face lit up with triumph._

"_Hold," hissed Voldemort, as the Death Eaters made to move forward. He rapidly cast silencing charms in the area around him, before he made a slight backward pull with his wand._

_Rookwood was pulled forward, his eyes popping as a crushing force dragged him forward by the throat. "Perhaps Rookwood should go next," said Voldemort sadistically, "to ensure the safety of all those not of House Black..."_

_Rookwood's eyes widened in fear, but he had no time to protest as with another wand movement from Voldemort, he was thrown unceremoniously into the house, his landing muffled by the Silencing Charms._

_The traps, though, which Albus Dumbledore had set around the hallway, did not go off. They were of a most curious kind, and required enormous magical power within a person to set off. In fact, only three people in Britain could trigger them at the moment; and one of them had set the trap, while the other two were connected by a magical link. Not for long, though..._

_A few seconds passed, and everyone let out a sigh of relief. The Dark Lord remained a bit worried, though, since the silence and lack of reaction was too suspicious. But then, he shook his head – he was becoming too paranoid thanks to recent events. It was late in the night, after all, and Dumbledore had always believed himself infallible._

_With a motion from his hand, Bella and Rookwood came back to their original positions, while Lucius readied himself in excitement. This was his moment, when he established himself as the best the Death Eaters had to offer..._

_As one united phalanx with Voldemort at the head, the Death Eaters strode forward, and into the house. The current inhabitants would no doubt raise the alarm somehow, and bring in reinforcements – they'd have a fight on their hands tonight._

_One final step, and he was inside the house. One moment of silence, and then Voldemort's lips curved in relief and victory._

_And then the world went to hell, as the localised magical explosion shook the entire building – even though the Muggle buildings around them remained unharmed. The world around him shattered, and all he knew was pain, pain upon pain –_

_Pain._ Harry screamed as his entire being was set afire, every cell and every nerve ending of his body screaming in agony. His magic permeated him, rushed through him, _was _him.

He'd chosen the worst time possible to complete Calli's assignment – or perhaps it was the best.

The inhabitants of the entire boy's dormitory awakened as Harry's screams cut through the air. Neville rushed out of bed and made to calm Harry, but pulled back as his hands were burnt. The magic on the surface was rebelling, unwilling to be chained; but being bound at the same time.

Inside Harry, another power was awakening – _the power that the Dark Lord knew not – _the Power that only one other person in history had wielded, having undergone the same training.

"Get McGonagall!" yelled Ron, a strange gleam in his eye, as he watched his old best friend thrash around in the air, held aloft by his own magic. Seamus took off at a dead run, nearly tumbling down the stairs, while Ron rapidly cast off a plethora of silencing charms, already adding to the set he'd created the second he'd been woken by Harry's screams. "And be fast!"

Harry was lifted bodily into the air by his own magic – strangely though, there was no residue coming off him, as the magic bound itself completely to his being.

Dean, Neville and Ron watched in abject horror as a strange sort of light bathed Harry's body in an ethereal glow. He twisted and turned, clutching at himself with shaking hands until...

His entire body was jerked back, and his scar was set aflame. Golden flames danced along the jagged length, before there was a high-pitched scream, and black smoke sputtered out from the lightning bolt shaped cut.

The last vestiges of the link between Harry and Voldemort put up a strong fight, clutching desperately to the body which had hosted it for so many years, but to no avail. It was thrown bodily out of Harry's being, just as Professor McGonagall, followed by a frantic Dumbledore ran up the stairs towards the room.

The dark mist, though severely depleted, coalesced into a recognizable form –

McGonagall gasped as she found the Dark Mark hovering in the dormitory, while Dumbledore's face cycled through different emotions as he mentally pieced together what had happened.

Shock, disbelief, denial, and then finally joy washed over his features before he schooled them back into shape.

With a wave of his wand, and a complex incantation, he created a miniature vortex in the room, as the Mark was hit with an Exorcism Charm. A whirlpool of black smoke thrashed about for a few moments, before it imploded into nothingness.

Harry thrashed around another second or two before he collapsed completely on the bed – passed out in a rather anticlimactic manner. Despite it, Dumbledore could feel the magic – he paused, the magic wasn't around Harry or within Harry –it _was_ Harry.

"Will someone please tell me what happened here?" asked McGonagall, her voice mildly panicked. "Mr. Finnigan here woke me up in the middle of the night, saying Mr. Potter was in danger, and I arrive here to find him in the middle of some sort of fit! Explain at once!" she commanded.

All three boys except Ron burst into a bevy of explanations, their voices together serving no purpose other than to confuse the Transfiguration professor more.

"Silence!" she barked, and all three boys immediately shut up. Dumbledore's eyebrows had risen further, he'd moved to silence the area, only to find quite powerful charms already in existence. That would explain why no other student had come down to investigate...

"Mr. Weasley," he chose to speak just then, making nearly everybody in the room jump, "perhaps you would be so kind as to explain the events of tonight?"

Ron told them everything he'd witnessed, as concisely as he could.

"I presume it was your Silencing Charms that I encountered around the room?" asked the Headmaster, his eyes twinkling when Ron nodded.

"In that case, I believe points are in order," he said, "I believe...25 each to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Finnigan for quick thinking and prompt action would not be amiss, would it?"

The boys grinned in delight, though their smiles were tinged with worry for their roommate. McGonagall merely nodded, her lips pursed, as she said, "That's all well and good, Albus, but we need to get Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing at once!"

"I think Mr. Potter is perfectly healthy, Minerva," said Dumbledore lightly. "Perhaps a visit to my office would be in order."

McGonagall's lips thinned further, "My office is nearer, Albus," she offered, "and I daresay I would like to keep an eye on my student while you investigate into this matter."

Her face was impassive even as the Headmaster threw her a shrewd look. "Very well," he agreed finally, before drawing his wand and conjuring a stretcher, which he levitated the prone form of the Boy-Who-Lived onto.

The other boys watched Harry being floated down the stairs before the Headmaster and the Transfiguration teacher, and Ron started taking down the charms he'd placed, his mind a whirlwind of thought.

He was impressed by his own skill and power tonight, he decided, as he took down all of them and laid back on his bed, ignoring the other boys, who were conversing in low voices.

_I could give you much more power..._came a whisper. _All you need to do...is dig a bit deeper._

He was shocked – he distinctly remembered placing the locket in his trunk, but here it was in his pocket again.

_It shows that your resolve is weakening, Ronald Weasley..._crooned the voice to him. _You know you want that power –_

Ron paled. He had no illusions about whose voice it was – who this Tom Riddle was who would teach and advise him whenever he put on the locket and gave in to its magic...

_Yesss..._ hissed Riddle. _Put it on, and this time, let go completely...you felt that power, but let me show you what it is like to wield it!_

He had resisted both the attempts of Riddle and the lure of Dark Magic, to learn the Darker of the Arts from a young Voldemort, but he knew the locket was slowly gaining power, and wearing away at his psyche. He knew Riddle would soon get strong enough to try and possess him like Ginny, but he wanted to learn just a bit more from him...

_Yesss!_ Crowed Riddle. _Put on the locket, Ron, and you will wield the same power that the fool Potter wields!_

_But at what cost?_ Asked Ron, as he took the locket out of his pocket and placed it inside his trunk, this time taking care to lock it in. He wasn't ready to get rid of it just yet, though...

And then Ron Weasley slumped back on his bed, and lay there, thinking.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

_Where am I? _Thought Harry, as he opened his eyes, as naturally as waking up from a short nap. He felt no exhaustion, no pain – he just _was_. Everything around him was dark – he couldn't even see the surface he was sitting in.

Instead of fear or paranoia, though, all he felt was a sense of detached calm. Nothing could harm him here –

_Indeed,_ said a voice from behind him, sounding a bit amused. It was female, and her voice was soft and lilting, like a whisper in the wind.

Now that he concentrated, he could make out the sound of the rushing wind around him, moving around him nearly silently.

_Who are you?_ He asked, not feeling threatened at all.

'_Who are we?', you mean,_ said another voice, this once decidedly male, but gentle yet firm.

He just nodded, feeling no need to speak or even think aloud.

_We have many names,_ said the female voice.

_The Dark - _she said; her voice curiously seductive.

_The Light – _said the male voice proudly.

_Hidden –_

_Manifest –_

The swirling around him seemed to increase in force –

_Cold –_

_Hot – _

_Air – _

_Fire-_

_**Yin **__– said the female, her voice now resounding, the word sending a pang through Harry's being._

_**And Yang**_ – said the male, his voice just as stirring.

_Always moving, keeping the balance – shifting, turning –_

_Seperate, yet part of a complete whole..._

_**You.**_They ended together, and Harry shivered, understanding rising within him. He had enough knowledge of Shaolin Movies and popular culture to have an inkling of what was going on –

_You're my soul?_ He asked, his voice filling with wonder.

_The soul,_ said Yin, a trace of humour in her voice. _Yes, you can call us that, though you would do us a disservice._

_What are you, then?_ He asked, a trace of apprehensiveness in his voice.

She laughed melodiously, the sound sending shivers through him. _That is for us to know, _she said.

_And you to find out –_ said Yang.

_Can I see you?_ He asked tentatively, which gave rise to another round of laughter from both of them. He felt no shame, though, instead, he felt lifted, invigorated.

_You have already, don't you think?_ Yin asked with a teasing lilt.

He took a second to understand – the last stage of his journey to power, as Calli had fondly named it.

_That was you?_ He asked in wonder.

_Indeed, _said Yang.

_A constant, never ending cycle, though you saw only one of our many forms..._

Harry paused for a second, but then he asked, _What does this mean for me?_ He asked. _Does this mean I am now more powerful?_

They laughed again, and he curiously felt like a child. _No, you are not,_ said Yin.

_You may just access the magic in you, and around you, better._

_Wait, the magic __**around**__ me?_

_We are everywhere, Harry. In you, outside you, with you, without you..._

_You're sentient.._.said Harry in awe.

Another round of laughter. _Indeed we are. All Magic is._

He was intrigued, and opened his mouth to question them further, when Yang interrupted –

_Your time here grows ever shorter,_ he said gravely.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Yin beat him to it. _You should be grateful that you were in our presence so long, little one, _and he could hear the power in her voice, _but despair not, we shall meet again, I think._

_We will? _Asked Harry, again feeling sorrowful like a child.

_Of course we will, _said Yang amusedly,_ we are part of you, and we will always be with you in your time of need._

_One last question, then, _said Harry, and already the space around him was getting lighter – he could see a gateway of light appearing –

_I think I know your question already, _said Yin. _No, Harry, neither my counterpart, nor I am evil. We may be dark, or we may be light, but it is the part you choose to act upon, that makes you what you truly are._

_Does that mean I will never be able to access your power? _Asked Harry, mentally directing his question to Yin.

She laughed, low and appealing. _Why should I be the evil one, just because I represent the Dark, Harry? _She asked, her voice throaty, almost like she was whispering in his ear.

_One moment I am the Dark, _she said, her voice sending shivers down his spine.

_And the next I am Light,_ said Yang's voice.

_Wait, you're one being?_ Asked Harry, it was almost too much to wrap his head around.

Scratch that, it actually _was _too much for him to wrap his head around.

_You may have hope yet,_ said Yin, amusement colouring her voice. _No, you may never call upon both of us together, _she explained, _not in the literal sense, anyway. We are ever changing-_

_And where I am one moment – _said Yin,

_I am the next –_ said Yang.

He shook his head, confused. _Of course, you may attempt to_ _change the course of the cycle, or speed it up, to disturb the balance, even though it is inadvisable –_

_How? _Asked Harry, panicking slightly, as their voice grew fainter.

Yin's laughter stayed with him, haunting his years, as it faded altogether into the approaching, all-encompassing light. _Why, that would be telling, young Harry!_

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Dumbledore levitated Harry quickly out of the Tower, pausing as the Portrait of the Fat Lady closed behind him.

"What is going on, Albus?" asked McGonagall almost immediately, and she was unprepared for the change that came over the Headmaster. He smiled widely, chuckling deeply, and it was like years had been taken off him – _she _almost felt giddy at the aura he was projecting.

"It seems young Harry's life has taken a turn for the better, Minerva!" said Albus, his eyes twinkling. "And on the other hand, I believe Voldemort has suffered a serious injury –"

"The _Dark Lord?!_" gasped Minerva, "Albus, explain at once -!"

But the Headmaster was already walking away with a noticeable spring in his step, muttering under his breath, while smiling widely. Minerva hastened to follow, careful not to bump into her student – but the Headmaster was proving almost impossible to keep up at his pace.

She gave a start as there was a flash of fire, and Fawkes appeared next to Dumbledore, flying alongside him. The phoenix trilled, and Dumbledore nodded.

Fawkes gave another trill, this one lighter, and Dumbledore paused. Fawkes flew over to Harry's prone form, and blinked his eyes. A single tear fell onto Harry's scar, and there was an angry hissing noise.

Minerva's protective instincts were roused – she ran forward, her wand drawn.

Her eyes widened though, when she saw what was happening. Harry's scar, which had been raw and inflamed, was slowly losing its colour, and turning paler. She watched in fascination as some tissue knit together, and suddenly, all activity stopped.

Where the angry, almost pulsating scar had been before, was a thin, lightning bolt shaped light mark – a pale shadow of what his scar had been before.

She looked up, but her question died in her throat. Albus' eyes were wet, as he gazed upon Harry.

"So much suffering avoided," he mumbled to himself, his eyes bright – a fact that was reflected in his familiar, strangely.

"Now, Fawkes," he said, straightening up, "I believe you should give Poppy and Severus some notice," he said, before his eyes twinkled mischievously, "and perhaps sing a lullaby or two?"

Minerva couldn't help it. As the phoenix disappeared again, and they began moving forward again, she asked incredulously, "Sing a lullaby?"

"One of the properties of phoenix song," said Albus, his voice low, "is the ability to put those who are already asleep into an even deeper sleep – just in case some questionable people should chance upon this unlikely entourage..."

She nodded, her lips thin. Albus' eyes twinkled, as she asked, "Questionable people of the amphibian sort?" her voice completely flat.

"Indeed, Minerva, indeed," nodded the Headmaster, and her lips twitched upward a bit, despite herself.

"He will be alright, of course, Albus?" she asked anxiously the very next second, as she turned her gaze on the fifth-year who was still unconscious.

"Only one way to find out, Minerva," the Headmaster said. They had arrived at her office. "I am afraid I must ask you to go to my office for a bit," she stiffened.

"I give you my word, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "that I will not perform any magic upon Harry while you are away –"

She opened her mouth. "My word as a wizard, Minerva," he said gravely, and she could feel the magic in the room shift. She gulped, and nodded.

"In the table next to the portrait of Dilys Derwent, you will find a solitary, rather curious instrument of mine," he ordered, "I believe you will recognize it by its puffing of rather intriguing patterns of smoke, and I must ask you to bring it to me at once."

She nodded, and left, with one last glance at Harry. Albus lowered Harry onto the couch in the room, and decided to look out of the window towards the Quidditch pitch until Minerva returned, focusing on unsticking a Sherbet Lemon.

His familiar appeared next to him with another flash, just as he had succeeded and popped the sweet into his mouth.

The phoenix trilled as it beheld Harry again, and Albus could make out the happiness in his voice.

"Indeed, Fawkes," he said, "I am certain that I will no longer have to sacrifice Harry to win the war against the Dark Lord – he is free to live his own life –"

Unfortunately for him, his student had chosen just a few seconds to wake up while his back was turned.

Albus stiffened immediately, as his familiar fell strangely silent. He had a moment's notice as an enormous magical aura flared behind him – and then he dove to the left as a spell rocketed past him, right where his head had been moments ago.

The force of the Reductor was such that it took an entire section of the wall off – where the window once stood, there was now a gaping hole.

He barely managed to raise his wand and a subsequent shield before Harry hurled another spell at him. The curse splattered against his shield and he was pushed back with the force of it – his eyebrows rose as he quickly computed the situation.

He thought he'd seen the complete extent of Harry's powers during the Summer, especially when the youngster was angry. He hadn't factored in the increase in Harry's powers due to the removal of Voldemort's influence – added to the fact that he was –

He chanced a glance at his student, and gulped. Harry had bypassed livid, and now had a cool, blank expression on his face, one that promised extreme pain to the Headmaster. His eyes, though, were burning green – the Headmaster shivered involuntarily, he'd chosen the worst possible time to make a no-harm oath.

"Dumbledore," said Harry, his voice ice cold. "Would you care to repeat, or even better, _explain_ what you just said?"

Dumbledore muttered something, and then was forced to throw up another shield, physical this time, as Harry raised his wand, and jabbed it silently.

The fleet of daggers that sped out of Harry's wand clattered harmlessly against the marble block, but his next _Reducto _blasted it to dust without another word on his part.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. Harry's anger was powering him to unimaginable extents –

"Harry, please calm down –" the only answer he got was a _'Flamma Flagello!'_, spoken aloud, and a Flame Whip curse that narrowly avoided singeing his beard.

Albus took in the situation with admirable speed – he was up against the arguably most powerful, and angry young wizard of his generation, and without the ability to subdue him magically. So he did the only thing that made sense –

Jumping out from behind cover of his desk, he grabbed onto Fawkes tail –

A second passed – and nothing happened.

Fawkes gave him a smug look. _You had this coming, _the phoenix was clearly saying to him.

He swore, causing his familiar to shake its head amusedly, before vanishing in a ball of flame. To get help –_ he hoped_.

He was left with only one course of action – twisting his Headmaster ring, he made a temporary hole in the wards.

Surprisingly, Harry could feel the magic around him without any problems now – though he could see that the almost cloying aura around Hogwarts would be giving him some spectacular headaches, but he was still aware of the approaching person outside the door, and the temporary anomaly that Dumbledore had created with his wring.

Minerva stepped into the room, the instrument hovering before her, only to find Harry snarling, "Oh no you don't!" and leap at Dumbledore, before both of them vanished in a flash.

The instrument let out a loud puff of smoke and bobbed dangerously, before she managed to recover enough to stabilise it and set it upon her desk. Her eyebrows shot into her hair as she noticed the rather conspicuous hole in her wall, and she swore for a short second before running out of her office, wand at the ready, her face set.

Dumbledore and Harry, on the other hand, were deposited rather unceremoniously on the Second Floor corridor. Harry was the first to regain his balance, and his wand was ready and pointed at the Headmaster within seconds –

"Just give me a reason," he said, carefully eyeing the Headmasters wand as he stood up, which was lying away from him in one corner of the corridor, away from the kneeling old man. "_Explain!"_

"Headmaster – _Potter?!_" Snape, who had been hoping to take a shortcut through the portrait at the end, stopped short. For a second, his mouth opened and closed disbelievingly, before he sneered and regained his senses, his wand out in a flash.

"You're done for now, Potter," he said with a smirk, "cornering and clearly attacking the Headmaster – I _told _him that you were an ungrateful bra-"

He stopped short, and dived as a Stunner came at him, so powerful that the very air in its path rippled. It splashed against the wall and left a large, luminous red stain that faded out very slowly.

Snape's eyes widened, a curse was on his lips, just as, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

Albus sighed as he felt the minor bond on him release as McGonagall arrived at the scene. In a flash, her wand was out. She hestitated for a second, before deciding to back her student, and pointed it at Snape.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, Snape mirrored his actions.

"I would like to know that as well, Professor," said Harry, barely controlling his anger. "Especially why the Headmaster here suddenly decided that he would no longer have to _sacrifice_ me to vanquish Voldemort!"

Minerva was struck dumb for a moment, before she turned to Dumbledore, her voice going sub-zero. "_What_ is my student talking about, Albus?"

Dumbledore gulped, even with his wand held loosely in his hand, and free of his no-harm oath, he felt a chill go down his spine. Minerva was the most ruthless of opponents even on her worst days...

He slowly rose to his feet, and Harry started, brandishing his wand at the Headmaster. Snape snarled, and strode forward with his wand raised towards the young Gryffindor, he was stopped short, however, by Minerva's wand pointing at him.

"Not another step, _Death Eater_," she said, her voice controlled, and he flinched as if struck. "You will first explain why you did not seem surprised that the Headmaster could have a conspiracy to kill my favour- my _student!_"

Harry's affection and respect for McGonagall skyrocketed. He could see why the remaining Marauders had spoken reverently of her exploits during the last war – her ability to jump to relevant conclusions was phenomenal.

"Surely you don't mean that, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, his voice now sorrowful and holding none of the joy it previously had.

"I mean every word, Albus," said the Transfiguration professor, "this has been going on too long, and this seems too suspicious. Merlin knows you and _Severus_ spend too much time holed together, plotting Morgana-knows-what!"

The Headmaster's bushy eyebrows shot skywards, "You would take Mr. Potters accusations seriously even without a chance to verify it first?"

She faltered for a moment, before straightening, and proudly saying, "Yes, I would. Too many times I've ignored his words, and somebody has suffered for it – not least him!"

Harry's feelings were reinforced, and he gave a small smile towards her, his wand still steady, though.

Her wand twitched, and at the same time there was a flash – Albus started and raised his wand at her, thinking she had done something.

Fawkes arrived to a most bizarre scene. The four wizards were almost forming a perfect square –

Harry had his wand pointed at Albus, Albus was uncertainly holding his in Minerva's direction. Minerva was still covering Snape with her wand, and the Potions professor had kept his steady in his most hated student's direction, though he was still looking warily at his colleague's wand.

Snape tested waters by moving a step forward, but stopped short sharply. In a second, Harry's wand was pointed in his direction, while Minerva had also moved forward. The Potions Master shifted his hand to point at Minerva instead, Dumbledore raised his wand warningly in Harry's direction. Seeing no choice, Minerva pointed her wand at Dumbledore.

The entire square had reversed directions within seconds. The four magicians were now holding the person to their right at wandpoint.

Fawkes couldn't help it; he let out an amused musical melody.

Harry started despite the situation. "Did he just sing the starting to the Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme?" he couldn't help asking.

Albus chuckled as well, momentarily forgetting the gravity of the situation. "Apt, if I may say so –"

That did it for Harry. His temper was already on edge, and the Headmaster's nonchalant attitude even after Harry had just heard him admit to a conspiracy to kill Harry, sent him over the edge.

Normally, he would wait a second to pull his magic to the surface before performing a spell, but his summer training had paid off. Now that the first stage of his magical training was done, his magic was permeating every cell of his body, and ready to go – and it was further fuelled by the very power of his soul.

A complete soul, unharmed and whole, something the Dark Lord would never have – a power he could never wield.

Dumbledore turned on the charms on his glasses for a split second as he felt Harry's aura flare, and almost gasped. Harry's aura was like nothing he had seen before – while everybody's aura was represented by a steady colourful ball, Harry's was a swirling mass of energy with no definite shape, cycling all over his body – it was like he was made of magic!

Albus felt giddy as a schoolboy, the situation almost forgotten – this was magic unheard of!

He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, though, when Harry sent a silent Cutter at him with a sweep of his wand.

And the duel was on.

Flashes and bangs lit up the corridor and plunged it into chaos as the four-way duel commenced. Harry dodged a Stunner from Snape, spun gracefully about and together with McGonagall, sent a double Stunner back at the greasy haired Potions teacher. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and a shield was raised in front of Snape, and the two spells smashed harmlessly against it, though Harry's sent a deep gong through the Castle.

Flitwick and Sprout, who were patrolling that night, immediately hastened to the source of the noise.

Umbridge merely rolled over in her sleep, and continued snoring.

Meanwhile, Snape was forced to raise another shield of his own as McGonagall sent a fleet of knives at him. Harry engaged the Headmaster, conjuring half a dozen cobras and commanding them with a hiss.

As one, the Spitting Cobras attacked, and Dumbledore's eyes widened as he leapt out of the way with a speed that belied his age, as the venom barely missed him and splattered against the wall. The venerable Headmaster shivered as the venom made a hole in the wall with a spitting sound. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore turned the snakes to ash, before reforming them to form ropes which he banished at Harry. McGonagall swept around and forced a suit of armour into the way, at the same time, Harry spun around, back to back with her and batted aside a _Petrificus _from Snape, before sending a hex that he'd fantasized about using on the Potions Professor ever since he'd read up about it.

Snape dodged out of the way, but he was too slow for Harry's magic induced speed – the spell hit his arm. Snape's left limb was immediately replaced by a full bat wing, and Harry couldn't help but let out a feral laugh.

He spun around again, and McGonagall followed suit. He quickly blasted apart the suit of armour which Dumbledore had charmed to subdue McGonagall, while the Transfiguration professor laughed outright at the sight of the Potions professor, before sending the same spell again at him again, which he barely dodged. Snape retaliated with a banisher, enraged, an ugly expression on his face.

In fact, he was the only one snarling, all other combatants had exhilarated smiles on their faces.

Perhaps it was the relief of fighting against people who weren't servants of a maniac, or the sheer adrenaline, but Harry gave a fearsome laugh as he transformed a broken chunk of stone into a flock of birds which he banished at the Headmaster, whose eyes twinkled as he blasted them to pieces before transforming them into a solitary hawk that dove at Harry. Minerva's hair had fallen out of its bun, and she grinned dangerously as she sent out a controlled blast of flame that charred both the hawk as well as the python that Snape had conjured, before she spun around and traded opponents with Harry –

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN IS GOING ON?!"

Every wand froze in action as two female voices cried out as one. Professors Sprout and Flitwick had arrived at the scene, as had Madam Pomfrey.

Sprout looked like she was suffering from a coronary, Flitwick's eyes were popping open in disbelief, and Pomfrey...looked livid.

As one, all four combatants paled at her look, and tried to hide their wands quickly behind their cloaks or nightgowns.

Pomfrey spoke one word, her glinting – the same glint she wore whenever she was dealing with a particularly difficult patient whom she'd just threatened to tie to the bed, "_Explain."_

As one McGonagall and Harry, and Snape and Dumbledore raised their hands and pointed at the other pair. "They started it!" they complained childishly.

Fifteen minutes later, all four of them were rubbing their smarting behinds – courtesy Pomfrey's merciless Stinging Hex – and sitting gingerly on the beds of the Hospital Wing.

"I cannot believe this!" the Matron said, as she angrily strode about between them, checking for spell damage, "a student and _three_ Professors out of bed at night, and DUELLING IN THE CORRIDORS!"

"You can't chastise me," said Dumbledore, a bit petulantly, "I'm the –"

"Most manipulative, conspiring old coot in the universe who plots the demise of his own students –"

Flitwick and Sprout were watching avidly, their eyes round, not quite understanding, but definitely enjoying the situation.

"Potter! How dare you talk to the Headmaster that way, you ungrateful, arrogant Hellspaw-"

"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" shrieked McGonagall, her face red, "I've stood by too many years, you greasy git, and watched passively under the Headmaster's orders, while you bully other students!"

"How dare you –" began Snape, affronted, while Harry cheered, "Go Minnie!"

"SILENCE!" screamed Poppy, and everybody fell silent at once, their mouths snapping shut.

"I wasn't shouting..." offered Dumbledore meekly.

"Shut up, Albus, you great suck-up!" said Minerva, and Harry's face split into a wide grin. "You have a lot of explaining to do!"

All the humour was sucked out of the room, and Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I believe I do," said the Headmaster. "Your anger is justified –"

He got up, and all others stood up and followed as he set off in the direction of McGonagall's office, to explain to Harry –

"_Just where do you think you are going?"_

All four of them stiffened and sheepishly turned to find a very bemused Madam Pomfrey, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips.

They gulped as one.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

"Never again!" said Harry, as he stumbled out of the Hospital Wing, gagging. Pomfrey had force fed them the most foul tasting potions imaginable, on purpose, they were sure.

"Never again," said Minerva, leaning on her favourite student, and he firmly gripped her arm, and she gave him a rare smile. She was glad she had somewhat repaired the situation between them, whatever the cost was.

"Headmaster!" said Snape, who had finally been able to look past the trauma of the entire incident, "Potter! This is entirely his fault! I demand his expulsion at once!"

"Enough!" said McGonagall, and Snape flinched. "That is _it!_ Albus, you must make a choice, now! Severus can stay and keep on bullying and terrorizing students, but I will not tolerate his presence a second longer! Either he stays in the Castle, or I do!"

There was stunned silence after this proclamation. Everyone was stunned, even Snape.

"Professor..." began Harry weakly, quite touched, but he stopped short, as she subtly squeezed his hand.

Sprout seemed to be wrestling with a decision, before she said, "Me too, Albus. If Minerva leaves, so do I!"

Flitwick chose to stay out of it, true to his semi-Goblin heritage, and both witches threw him a dirty look. Harry, though, was amazed by this Slytherin side of the Gryffindor Head of House, as he took in the gleam in both her and her female colleagues eyes. He could swear that the Hufflepuff Head winked at him before she turned away, facing the Headmaster grimly.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning," said Dumbledore wearily, now looking every bit his age. "When the daylight will help us think clearer. Besides, I believe a complete meeting of teachers is necessary to vote on this matter. Minerva, I implore you to think clearly. Hogwarts needs you._ Harry _needs you right now –"

Harry opened his mouth hotly, outraged at this open blackmail. Minerva's nostrils flared as well.

"Very well, Albus," she said stiffly. "We will now proceed to my Office, where you can investigate Mr. Potter's seizure _under my supervision!_"

The other teachers started, surprised at this news. Snape was completely pale, given the turn of events.

"However," she continued, drawing herself up to full height, "You can expect me gone by tomorrow night at the latest," she said, her voice firm. She had just called Dumbledore's bluff and raised it.

"Minerva, I beg of you –" but the Transfiguration Professor was already walking down the Hall, dragging Harry with her.

Dumbledore sighed and turned to the other teachers, "You are dismissed," he said tiredly. "Please, Pomona," he said, as Sprout opened her mouth to speak. "No more tonight," he pleaded.

Professor Sprout's eyes softened, and she nodded, before turning away and walking off, followed by Flitwick.

"Headmaster –" began Snape, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"You have brought this upon yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore sadly.

"You cannot be serious!" said Snape, but Dumbledore replied sorrowfully -

"My hands are tied when it comes to this, Severus...the Board values Minerva more over you. Now, I know I had called you, but it seems we will have to do without your presence, my boy."

Snape huffed and strode off angrily, cloak billowing behind him, leaving a tired Headmaster behind, who turned and shuffled in the direction of Minerva's office, his shoulders hunched.

The cracks were beginning to show already in the fragile alliance of the Light...

"Professor!" said Harry urgently, "you can't seriously leave Hogwarts!" as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

McGonagall grinned tightly. "Oh, I believe that this will end up in nothing as always, Harry," she said. "Severus will be teaching come Monday, and so will I –"

"But if nothing comes of it –"

"The Headmaster will still consider himself warned, Mr. Potter," said the Professor, back to her pierce self, even though her lips were twitching upwards. "Let us not be tardy now," she said, and strode forward briskly, leaving him to follow at a slightly more sedate pace, as his eyes trailed behind her admiringly.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Dumbledore arrived ten minutes later, to find his Deputy and her student sitting together in a comfortable silence. He raised his wand, only to find that the hole in the wall had been repaired.

Taking a deep breath, he put on his best Poker face, and turned to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, if you will kindly recount the events of tonight?" Harry opened his mouth in anger, but Dumbledore raised his palms in surrender.

"Patience, Mr. Potter, I assure you I will try and explain myself once you are done!"

Harry took a deep breath as well, his eyes sparkling in anger, before he launched into a description of events.

Dumbledore's eyes were a bit brighter when he had finished, while Minerva let out a gasp.

"The Dark Lord was injured?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Critically, by the looks of it," said Harry.

"And what happened next?" prodded Albus, his eyes alight.

"I lost consciousness," said Harry coolly, "so I was hoping you could shed some light on that –"

Dumbledore sighed, but beckoned Harry forward. "If you would kindly place a finger here," he said, demonstrating the instrument McGonagall had brought in.

He complied, and the device shot out a solitary puff of swirling smoke. Albus looked happier, and then asked, "In essence divided?"

Nothing happened, and when nothing continued to happen, Albus smiled slightly. "You will remember, Harry, our conversation from a few years ago, when I said that Voldemort had left a part of himself behind in you, giving you certain...abilities?"

Harry nodded, his eyes narrowed. "Well," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, "it seems that it is no longer a part of you. By my calculations, your scar will never hurt you again, and you won't be suffering from any nightmares or visions, either..."

Harry's expression cleared up, and he showed blank shock for a moment, something that was mirrored on Professor McGonagall's face.

"G-gone?" he asked, stunned. "How?"

"I must confess myself ignorant about that," said Dumbledore lightly, "and I am yet to form any theories, as well. We can only be thankful for this fortunate turn of events –"

Harry resisted the urge to swear – he could bet his Gringotts vault that Dumbledore had theories, but he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest.

"What does this mean for Mr. Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall tentatively.

"I believe Mr. Potter will experience an increase to his already considerable powers," said Dumbledore, "and he will also find his own mind a more...liberating area..."

"But he still spoke Parseltongue tonight!" protested McGonagall, "which should be against your theories, if the Dark Lord indeed gave him those abilities!"

"I defeated the King of Serpents, Professor," said Harry quietly. "Surely that has some side benefits, especially because I was injected with some of its venom, and managed to live?"

Silence followed his words, but Harry was thinking furiously. Could this have something to do with the Chamber incident? He had already theorized that the piece of Voldemort within him had been destroyed by the Basilisk's glance, and he had already experienced the subsequent mental and magical liberation – but could some vestiges of Dark Magic have been left behind? Could it be that even that had been wiped out thanks to his training?

Dumbledore no doubt thought that Voldemort's injury had something to do with this incident, but Harry was sure it was the effect of his training. Perhaps his magic had sensed the dark entity around his scar, and driven it away...

He shook himself out of his thoughts. "That still doesn't explain, Professor," he asked Dumbledore, "why you were planning to sacrifice me to kill Voldemort..."

Dumbledore paled. "Can you ever forgive me, Harry?" he asked, and Harry was a bit stymied to see his eyes wet.

_Crocodile tears,_ he told himself, wiping away whatever sympathy he felt for the old man before him.

McGonagall exploded next to him. "You thought that killing him would kill the Dark Lord thanks to this..._connection?!_" she screamed.

At a loss for words, Dumbledore could simply nod.

It was McGonagall who lost it this time.

"You _arrogant,_" she brandished her wand, and Dumbledore barely dodged her Blasting Hex, "_manipulative,"_ Dumbledore caught her next spell on his shield. Harry had drawn his wand as well, trying to defuse the situation, even though he would like nothing better to jump back into a duel with the old bastard.

"_OLD MAN!"_ finished McGonagall with a scream, and this time, she shot a jet of fire at Dumbledore, who vanished it to nothingness with a complex wave of his wand and a whirling windstorm.

"Minerva," said the old man sadly, "don't make me attack you –"

But McGonagall was beyond all reason. "_The Headmaster plotting to kill his own student!" _she screamed, throwing spell after spell at Dumbledore. Harry merely stood back, mentally cheering for her. "_The Boy-Who-Lived, LILY AND JAMES' SON!"_ With an inhuman shriek of rage, she conjured an enormous lion, which roared and leapt at Dumbledore.

Albus was clearly shocked, he transfigured it into a snake which he sent back to her out of pure reflex.

"_No!"_ hissed Harry, and he brandished his own wand, banishing the snake back to Dumbledore, "_Attack!"_

And this time, the snake managed to sink its fang into the Headmaster's arm, who was taken by surprise. Almost immediately, his arm began turning blue-black in colour.

Dumbledore panicked, and began rapidly muttering and casting spells. McGonagall had calmed down somewhat, even though she still looked like she could breathe fire.

"To the Hospital Wing," she said through gritted teeth, "we will be having words, Albus!" she finished angrily. "I would not be surprised if you were no longer Headmaster after our conversation!"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but shut it again, wisely. He quietly began walking towards the infirmary, cradling his useless left limb. Harry paused for a second to vanish the snake – a Viper, interestingly – while McGonagall raised an eyebrow subtly at his silent skill.

Needless to say, Madam Pomfrey was not pleased to see them in the Hospital Wing again.

"You will be spending the night here, Headmaster," she said angrily. "And Mr. Potter, if you are not back in your tower within fifteen minutes, you will be joining him as well! Never in my life have I seen more disgraceful behaviour!"

Harry nodded stiffly, even though he was still trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions within him.

He had been brought up to die – like a pig for slaughter. All these years, he had been running on borrowed time, and all these years, there would have been no way out for him.

As he looked upon Dumbledore, he realised that the old man before him had been making an elaborate plan to kill him for the past fourteen years, ever since the first fall of Voldemort in Halloween 1981.

Whatever minor shred of respect he had left for the man vanished on the spot, and his magic flared in anger, earning him a warning glance from McGonagall.

"I think it would be best you leave, Mr. Potter," she said, her own cheeks a blotchy red in anger. "Fear not, because the Headmaster and I will be having _intimate_ conversation on this matter, and no doubt certain other Godfathers I know will be interested to hear of this."

Dumbledore paled even more on the bed next to her, but wisely kept shut. Harry gave another nod, before walking out of the Hospital Wing. He set his course for the Seventh Floor, but to the Room of Requirement, instead of the Gryffindor Tower. He needed something to take his mind off things, and there was no other place which offered such an opportunity in the Castle.

He'd barely made it down two floors, when he was ambushed again. "POTTER!" he heard the roar behind him. Bearing down upon him, a completely deranged look in his eye, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry noted the two-way mirror in the Slytherin students hand, and understood at once. It seems Draco had gotten the news about Voldemort's unsuccessful raid already.

"MY FATHER IS IN THE CRITICAL WARD AT ST. MUNGO'S, YOU BASTARD!" Harry whistled, Lucius must have taken a bad hit. He dodged out of the way of an ugly yellow curse that Draco sent his way, which hummed with power. Despite already participating in two duels, Harry was miraculously still raring to go, though.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT, POTTER, I KNOW IT!"the blond screamed, his face twisted in anger. "HOW DARE YOU, YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD?!"

Another Dark-looking spell crashed harmlessly against his shield, and he took the opportunity to send ropes at Malfoy.

With a blast of fire, his conjurations were turned to ash. Harry blinked, and then grinned – Malfoy was pissed, and this looked to be a

His grin was wiped out, though, when Malfoy raised his wand, and screamed, "CRUCIO!"

He dodged out of the way of the spell, and snarled. If Malfoy wanted to play hardball, he was up for it.

With a flick of his wand, he conjured another set of ropes, banished them at Malfoy, and cast a _Petrificus Totalus, _and a _Silencio, _chaining them into one fluid wand movement dexterously, as he whirled and twisted about.

Malfoy barely managed to avoid the rope, but he was hit by the curving Body Bind, and the Silencing spell, and he fell to the floor with a thud.

Malfoy watched helplessly, with hateful eyes, as Harry advanced, his eyes glowing eerily.

His expression changed to terror, as Harry bent down and hissed, "Your father undoubtedly got what was coming to him, Malfoy, licking at the boots of a crazed egomaniac. You'll be going the same way soon, it seems, from your choice of spells..." Malfoy's eyes widened as Harry levelled his wand at his face, the tip glowing. With a mutter, a jet of light rushed towards him.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the spell grazed his cheek and hit the floor next to him. He could feel the cool blood trickling down his face. "_And I don't like Death Eaters,_ _Draco_," hissed Harry, sending shivers down his spine.

"Anyway," said the dark-haired wizard, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "The charm wears off in ten minutes, and I hope you won't be following me, Draco. It would be most," Draco squeezed his eyes shut again in horror as another jet of heat grazed his other cheek, and landed next to his ear, _"counterproductive."_

The Slytherin fifth-year could only watch with hateful eyes as his arch-rival walked off calmly, wand in hand.

Yet, ten minutes later, when he felt the bonds on him loosen, he stood up, cursing. Picking his wand and the two-way mirror up, he hurried back to his common room, vowing to take vengeance on the Boy-Who-Lived for the humiliation and attack upon the Malfoy Line.

At the same time as he made his way up to the fifth-year Slytherin dorm, Harry Potter was standing in his hideout at the Room of Requirement, and staring at the Cabinet that had appeared in the middle of the room.

He swore again as his repairing spell fizzled out for the third time, and his temper rose.

Repairing the goddamned Cabinet would take more than just spellwork – no doubt Borgin had been so willing to sell it to him.

He sat down, and began planning. Both on ways to fix it, as well as alternative gifts for Calli's birthday.

Normally, Succubi never celebrated their Birthdays, thanks to their lifespan, but Harry had built up a lot to it, and Calli was looking forward immensely to her birthday now, as well as the gifts that Harry said would come with it.

And he knew that turning up without a gift on Birthday's would be a one-way ticket to any woman's wrath.

The spot on his head where Calli had hit him with a shoe seemed to suddenly throb with a phantom pain.

He gulped, and massaged the relevant area of his scalp slightly, before diving into his planning again with greater fervour than before.

**Author's note: Well, since I received a depressingly low amount of reviews for my last chapter, I took some time off, kicked back, and went over my story again, just in case.**

**Worked out the plot, hammered out story arcs, and now I'm a bit more confident about the direction where it's going. **

**No guarantees about the next update, though one vacations begin, they'll be much more regular.**

**That said, both this chapter and the first has the complete summary for the story. Rather intriguing, if I say so myself!**

**Till next time, **

**IamtheMasterofDeath.**


	12. The Locket and the Liar

**Disclaimer: JKR owns everything except my OC's and ideas not mentioned in her books.**

**Chapter 12: The Locket and the Liar**

**September 3, 1995**

Harry awoke groggily, rubbing his eyes. He was still in the Room of Requirement. Almost like clockwork, he reached into himself to pull out his magic to the surface, but stopped short.

With a grin, he _felt_ that his magic was now essentially a part of him. He could feel it buzzing in every cell of his body, filling him up inside out. He took another second to smirk at the fact that he was probably only the second wizard to complete this feat, something that already set him apart from the most powerful wizards of all time.

And he was only fifteen, he thought with a wide smile.

He conveniently ignored the fact that Merlin had already killed his first Dark Lord by the age of fifteen, and instead tried reached for his wand.

Along with the usual warmth, though, Harry was besieged by the strangest sensation. He could feel the magic extend from his fingertips and sent a tendril down his wand. For the first time, he could appreciate Ollivander's words, that the wand was supposed to be an extension of the witch and wizard.

He could feel the way his magic behaved inside the wand; it was like a very narrow funnel, one that channelled his magic into a thin stream. He raised the holly stick, pouring some magic into it, and adopted the standard duelling pose. He swore he could hear traces of phoenix song come out from the end.

Pleased, he dropped his stance, and instead cast a _Tempus._ The smoky numbers formed in front of him, telling him that it was 11:03.

He stretched once, before reaching into his pocket for the two-way mirror. He'd decided not to call Calli last night, because his friend and teacher did not take well to being woken from her rest – he spoke from experience.

Holding the mirror in front of his face, he spoke clearly, "Callida!"

The mirror clouded over for a good fifteen seconds before the Succubus' face appeared on it. "Harry?" she asked, "is everything all right?"

She squinted a bit at his background, "Are you in the Room of Requirement?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling again, "listen, Calli, I did it! I completed the first stage of training!" He gave her a detailed account of last night's events, and she was delighted.

"That's brilliant!" she squealed, "I'm so proud of you! How long has it been since this happened?"

"It feels great, too," Harry said, "like I could pull off any spell I wanted! And over eight hours now, to answer your question."

Calli's expression changed immediately. "NO!" she screeched, surprising Harry, who almost dropped the mirror. "Don't cast any spells after the first quarter has passed!Do nothing until we make some headway on Occlumency," she warned him.

"First quarter?" he asked, puzzled.

"Six hours, Harry, honestly, don't they teach you the cycles?!"

"In fact, I have an idea!" continued the Succubus, her face lighting up. "You know the Vanishing Cabinet? Since you've fixed it, why don't you use it to come over?"

Harry paled a bit. "I don't think that's necessary," he croaked, "I performed a spell today, and it worked just fine!"

Calli was impressed. "What spell?" she asked.

"The _Tempus_ charm," said Harry, feeling a bit foolish.

A long silence extended between them, and Harry embarrassedly ruffled the back of his head with his hands.

"Harry," said Calli after a few moments, her voice calm, "take out your wand." Harry complied, and then looked at her questioningly, awaiting further instructions.

"Now please try and perform a decent spell, instead of the _pathetic_ excuse for magic you just mentioned."

Harry blushed a bit, but complied anyways. Almost as if reading his thought, the room conjured a bunch of paraphernalia to test his magic on.

Deciding to go big, he went for the Vanishing Spell. Raising his wand, he brought it down with a great wave, mentally saying the spell.

It worked perfectly. A bit too perfectly for Harry's tastes.

Everything vanished. _Everything._ Other than the Mirror Harry was holding, and his wand, every other article in the room vanished.

"Bloody hell!"he swore, "_Everything_ vanished, even my clothes! I'm naked!"

"Where?" asked Calli, and he blushed at the eagerness in her voice. The Succubus craned her head, trying to get a better look from her vantage point.

"Stop that!" said Harry, blushing profusely, but Calli just laughed. Ignoring her to the best of his abilities, he raised his wand again, to conjure some clothes for himself.

Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again, but ended up with the same results.

"Shit!" he swore, and tried again, now beginning to panic. He ended up shouting the spell in frustration over and over again, but to no avail.

"Why isn't it working?!" he asked, nearly in tears. He'd _never_ been able to not perform magic like this, for a long, long time.

Calli, who was still shifting around, much to his bemusement, stopped and gave a smug grin. "I told you so," she said, and Harry scowled. "Your magic will be fluctuating a lot until you get a rudimentary grasp on Occlumency, so we need to get practicing. Get over here as fast as you can, no need to get some clothes," she ended with a giggle.

Harry's scowl deepened, but it was replaced with a look of fear. "Er, Calli?" he said, "I vanished everything in the room..."

"I can see that," said Calli with a grin, "rather, I can see _part_ of it!"

Harry blushed, but forged ahead, "IvanishedtheCabinettoo."

"What?" asked Calli in confusion as he worked out what he'd just said. Her expression turned to ice as she worked it out. "Would you care to repeat that?" she said threateningly.

Feeling that he'd rather say anything else right then, he repeated, "I, er, vanished the Vanishing Cabinet along with everything else."

The irony of his statement was not lost on him, but he felt that it was not the right time to point it out.

"Let me get this straight," she asked, her voice cool. "You Vanished the Cabinet?"

"Yes," said Harry, feeling nervous.

"The thing you built up so much hype around?"

"Yes," he repeated, with a sinking feeling.

"The _one_ thing that would ensure a direct connection between you and me, seeing that you are the only person I know and am friends with? Considering the fact that everyone else I know is _dead_ or a soul-sucking Monster?"

Well, it sounded a lot worse when she put it like that.

He was about to say yes again, but thought the better of it. With a weak grin, he asked instead, "Is this a trick question?"

"Get your arse down to Hogsmeade within three quarters of an hour, the cave you met Sirius," she said, her face a rock with no emotions. "We need to get started as fast as possible. Avoid using magic to the best of your abilities."

He nodded, deciding it was best to remain silent.

"Oh, and Harry?" she asked, a sweet smile on her face appearing suddenly.

"Hmmm?" he asked warily. That smile did _not_ bode well for him.

"What are you giving me for my birthday?"

He shut off the mirror immediately. Some questions were definitely better left unanswered.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Gryffindor Portrait Hole**

**11:14 a.m.**

"Get out of my way, Corner, before I hex you!" snarled Ginny, at the end of his tether.

"Ah, Ginny," said the Ravenclaw, in what he clearly thought was a winning voice, "don't be that way."

"Listen, you _prick_," she said, "I will not, and I repeat for the sake of your undoubtedly underdeveloped brain, _will not_ go out with you."

His expression changed, anger overtaking his features. "Think you're better than me?" he asked dangerously.

She was unfazed, even though her temper was rising at a prodigious rate. "I know I'm better than you!" she replied with a sneer that would have made Malfoy proud.

"Yeah, a _Weasley _thinking she's better than –"he countered, but stopped a moment later as he looked over Ginny's shoulder to see the strangest sight.

Harry Potter was streaking down the short corridor with an expression worthy of a man being chased by the hounds of hell. Was it his imagination, or did his clothes look a bit..._pale_?

Ginny, meanwhile, had blown her top and gone for her wand.

"Chiroptera Mucus!" she screamed, revelling in the sensation of unleashing her power.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the spell, barely even noticing Corner in the way. The clothes he'd finally managed to conjure after nearly ten attempts were barely keeping their form, and he needed to get a change as fast as possible.

Raising his wand, and hoping to high hell, he yelled _'Protego!'_ and continued running, without even breaking stride. He barely gasped out the password and streaked into the Common Room and up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a first-year who was coming out.

Behind him, the spell had ricocheted of his overpowered shield and flown back at twice the velocity. The thin beam of the spell had somehow expanded to a huge purple wave, and both Michael and Ginny were struck by it and blasted off their feet.

Harry, though, was not privy to any of this. He ran into the common room, barely paused to pull out a fresh change of clothes and ran into the bathroom.

Dean, Neville, Seamus and Ron all exchanged looks.

"Upset stomach?" offered Neville tentatively, and the others laughed.

Harry came out fifteen minutes later, completely fresh, and thankfully clothed properly.

He was met with four stares from his roommates.

"Well?" asked Seamus eagerly, "you all right? What happened last night?"

Harry took the easy way out and gave them a highly watered down version.

"Wow," said Dean, in clear awe, "he left a part of _himself_ in you that night?"

"And it's gone now?" added Neville.

"Yes to both questions." Deciding to have a bit of fun, Harry grinned. "According to him, it was holding me back. I should be more powerful now, according to him." This was also, to the public, the perfect explanation for his miraculous rise in powers.

"Want to see?" he offered with a grin. All four nodded, and even Ron sat up, interested.

"You won't be the only one going into a strong magical maturity then," said Neville, making an off-handed comment at Ron.

Harry looked their way, distracted. Magical maturity was referred to the increase in power that a wizard or witch experienced as they turned seventeen, starting from their teen ages.

Neville looked pleased to have gained his attention. "You should have seen him last night!" he said, "snapped off nearly half a dozen Silencing Charms as soon as he awoke without even batting an eyelash."

Ron who'd turned red, defended himself weakly, "I was always decent at Charms," he offered.

"Yes," said Neville, "but this is something else! Gran was telling me about my OWL year, and she told me that Silencing Charms would be one of the first charms we'd be learning this year. In a way, you're ahead of the class!"

Harry turned his gaze to Ron, who blushed again, avoiding his eyes. "You did that?" the black-haired teen asked.

"I thought you wouldn't like all the attention it would bring," the redhead said sheepishly. Harry was a bit stunned, and he found himself without anything to say.

"Er, yeah...thanks," he said, shuffling his feet a bit, suddenly feeling that he was eleven again, and looking out of the train compartment at a family of redheads wistfully.

"Not a problem, mate," said Ron almost automatically. Both of them froze at the sudden familiarity in his voice.

"Er, right," said Harry, not really sure what to make sure of this development. For a second, he was tempted to throw all caution to the wind and talk, _really talk_ with Ron, but he stopped himself.

_I won't make the same mistake again,_ he told himself, _it hurt enough the first time round._

An uncomfortable silence stretched in the room, until Dean interrupted. "So, a demonstration?" he asked a bit nervously.

"Oh, yeah," said Harry with a grin. He stuffed his Invisibility Cloak under his robes, and folded the Marauders Map into his pockets, not noticing Ron's raised eyebrows. He made his way over to the room, until he was standing half-in, half-out.

"You might want to stand up in a straight line," he said with a reassuring smile. Curious, the four young wizards complied, though Ron was still looking somewhat sheepish. On closer inspection, Ron looked somewhat ill as well, but that went unnoticed by the others.

The others watched as Harry took his wand out, and raised it. They were suddenly struck by his power as his green eyes began glowing mildly, and suddenly they appreciated the fact that they were standing before Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Triwizard Champion.

Their awe was replaced by looks of rage, though, when Harry brought his wand down emphatically, leaving them naked. All the curtains in the room vanished as well, but they were too angry to notice that. The house-elves would replace them anyway.

"POTTER!" they roared as one, but the wizard in question was already racing down the stairs, his laughter echoing up the stairs. They gave chase together, but beat a hasty retreat when they realised that the Common Room down below was filled with students on a Sunday.

Harry was still chuckling as he walked out the Portrait Hall.

A second's warning; and he felt rather than saw the spell coming at him, filled with hostile intent. Thankful for Calli's training, he dodged speedily, his wand out and ready in seconds, pointed at his attacker.

"Ginny?" he asked, surprised.

The redhead in question was clutching her nose, and he could see a narrow stream of blood flowing out.

"How did you dodge that fast?" she asked, taken aback for a second, before her fury overtook her again. "You bastard, Potter! You hit me with a spell I was aiming at Corner! _Locomot Wibbly!_"

He dodged the mean looking Jelly-Legs Jinx, snapping up a shield.

Rather, attempting to snap one up. His efforts yielded no efforts. He swore colourfully, and dodged another spell.

He attempted to disarm her, but even his _'Expelliarmus'_ refused to work. Ginny took no notice of his discomfort, though. Red hair whirling about her like a fiery halo, she sent another couple of spells at him.

He bent to the left smartly to avoid one, and then bent all the way and cart wheeled away to dodge the next. The spell passed through the middle of his outstretched legs – it was like something out of a cheap action film.

Ginny stopped short, stunned. "H-how did you_ do_ that?" She sent another fast Hurling Hex at him, but fast as the wind, he dodged it, and took off running when his attempt at the Disarming Spell failed again.

"Stay and fight, you coward!" she snarled, but gave chase anyway. She was destined to fail, though. Harry whipped his Invisibility Cloak over himself, but she could still make out the sound of his footsteps. Following them to the best of her abilities, she was blasted off her feet again, when a Disarming Spell came out of nowhere.

She landed hard on her bum, and Harry stopped short, shocked that his magic had suddenly started responding again. He took one look at her face, and quietly slipped into a passageway to the side.

Ginny got to her feet, livid and rubbing her smarting backside. "POTTER, YOU NECROPHILIAC MOTHER-" any Slytherin would have been proud to come up with an insult like that, but she never got a chance to finish it.

"Hem, hem."

She stopped short, and gave a groan, before turning around reluctantly.

"I believe that will be detention tomorrow night for the use of such language, don't you, Miss Weasley?" Dolores Umbridge simpered up at her, thanks to the fact that she was even shorter than the petite redhead.

Five minutes later, a fuming Ginny Weasley made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. The other students gave her a wide berth as she stomped up the boy's staircase to the seventh-year's room.

Her elder twin brothers weren't there, she was told. Stomping down the stairs and cursing so colourfully that a sailor would blush, she checked her younger brother's room, and gave a feral, satisfied grin when she found them with Ron.

She put on her best trembling lower lip look, complete with wide, tearful brown eyes, and walked into the room. "Fred, George," she said, "I need you to defend my honour!"

The twins rolled their eyes, unfazed. "Who do you need us to prank, Ginny? We're getting late for the tryouts, anyway!"

She grinned. For all their faults, she still loved her brothers.

In Ron's drawer, though, a certain near-sentient locket perked up as Ginny entered the room. The locket was attracted to power, and it could sense a much better host in the area.

The last powerful wizard had been just that, too powerful for the locket to overtake, but this one was a prime target. It could even sense the traces of its own brand of darkness within her...

Ginny would stay in the room for a few minutes after the Twins and Ron would so that the youngest Weasley brother could try out for the only open position on the team. She'd potter around Ron's bed, affectionately cleaning up a bit; though she'd never admit to anything as _girly _as cleaning or affection for her brother.

When she would leave the room later, though, the locket would somehow find its way into her pocket without her knowing, waiting to strike.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**The Lair**

**Godric's Hollow**

**11:30 a.m.**

"Hey, Sirius?" asked Remus, looking over to the dark-haired wizard, who was polishing his wand.

"You know, I've been thinking..."

"Nothing new there."

"Shut up."

Sirius made a show of locking his mouth up and throwing away the imaginary key.

Lupin rolled his eyes. "It's about Callida, Sirius."

"What about her?"

"Something...something strikes me as odd about her. Something about her story doesn't fit."

"How does a Succubus, who's been asleep for eight-hundred years, speak perfect, modern English? How does she know so much about Harry? How does she have such knowledge about all the things that didn't exist in her time? She has only been awake for three months, if what she's saying is true!"

"You think she's not all she's saying she is?" asked Sirius, now sitting up anxiously. "Could she be Dark?"

"She does smell of Darkness, but it's not of the usual kind...but she's definitely hiding something."

"Harry's a powerful wizard Moony, he can take care of himself if something goes wrong."

"It's not Harry's health I'm worried about, it's his emotions," said Remus.

"You noticed, then?" asked Sirius with a smirk.

"Hard not to," said Remus. "I doubt _she's_ too aware that she likes him."

"Love lives aside, Remus," said Sirius, standing up, "I think it's time I got a move on as well."

"What?!" asked Remus, startled. "What do you mean?"

"Remus," said Sirius dramatically, "I think it's time I put to good use the only decent thing my family managed to teach me. I've already mailed Gringotts about the fund transfer, but now it's time to get off my handsome arse and do something else."

"And what may that be?" asked Remus, not liking the look in Sirius' eyes. There was a gleam there that frightened the werewolf.

"Planning and politics, Moony," said Sirius with a grin, "planning and politics..."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Meanwhile, down in the passageway to Honeydukes, a young wizard was coming to the same conclusion that the adults at Godric's Hollow had come to.

Mind racing a mile a minute, Harry went over his suspicions again. Walking through the old passageway, his mind had wandered to his conversation with Calli, before something strange had struck him.

How had Calli known about the cave where Sirius had stayed? He hadn't told her of Sirius's living arrangements prior to his stay in the Room of Requirement.

Of course, he reasoned, there was a chance that Sirius himself had told her, unlikely as it was.

But even though that could be explained, another detail couldn't.

_How had Calli been able to recognize the Room of Requirement?_

He would demand answers from her, he decided, as he opened the trapdoor, and walked into the cellar.

He walked out the front door a moment later, enjoying the clear weather. He paused a second to glance at a man reading a newspaper on the bench. He walked over, casually asking, "Anything worth of note today?" he asked.

"Nothing, unless you count the Canons losing their one hundredth game in a row. By Harry Potter's Scar, you'd think they'd be kicked out of the League by now..."

He looked up when he heard a laugh, but there was nobody around. Shaking his head and casting a wary glance at the Shrieking Shack in the distance, he went back to the newspaper.

Harry smirked. News of Voldemort and Death Eater activity was obviously being suppressed. He wondered if Malfoy Sr. would risk being admitted to St. Mungo's.

He was interested about the state of Voldemort as well, he'd look into that later.

He made his way up the rocky incline to the cave, to find Calli already waiting there.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, and since she made no move to get up, Harry sat down on the floor opposite her.

A moment of silence, and he could feel the light brush of her magic against her.

"Well done," she said, "I'm truly impressed. It took Merlin a week to complete this task, from what I hear, but for you even a month is impressive."

"I was motivated," admitted Harry, "a Dark Lord bent on ending my life is good incentive to work hard."

Her facade cracked, and she chuckled. Harry was relieved.

"Let's get started, then," and Harry sighed audibly. She was letting the matter of the Cabinet rest for now. "Don't worry," she said, as if reading his mind, "I'll address _that_ matter later."

Harry gulped but kept a stoic face.

"Now," said Calli, clapping her hands together, "to begin with, I trust you've done a bit of light reading on Occlumency?"

Harry shook his head, scowling. "I could find nothing," he said. "The Hogwarts library had nothing to offer except vague directions, and I had no access to the Black library. I think it's one of the lesser-used arts now, passed down through certain families..."

"That would make sense," agreed Calli, "the wizard approach to Occlumency is quite complex and unnecessarily painful."

"Painful?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.

"It involves the teacher first invading the mind of the student forcefully again and again until all natural shields are eroded," she explained. "Most natural shields have holes and weakness, so Beginner Occlumens have to build up their own walls from the ground up mentally."

"But _you_," said Calli with a flourish, "won't have to do this anytime soon. Listen carefully now, because what I'm about to tell you is ancient magical theory, some of which was researched by Merlin himself."

Harry sat up straight, excited. "Go on!" he urged.

"You see," began Callida, "whether they like it or not, Witches and Wizards_ are_ Magical Creatures too. But even so, they do not share the other beings' connection to magic, the innate ability to sense it."

"Why's that?" asked Harry, curiously.

"I don't know," said Calli baldly, and added, "and unless you can find Merlin's personal diary, I don't think anybody else will know, too. Now, as I was saying, even though Magic is sentient, and present everywhere –"

Harry nodded, he's certainly learned that in recent times.

" – wizards channel magic through their brains."

"Wait, _what?_" asked Harry, stunned.

"Indeed," said Calli with a grin, "while your wand is a focus, some part of your body must first interpret the Magical Energy, decide what you want to do with it, and then transmit it over your body. While it may seem that the Magic is coming from your hands or your fingers, it actually emerges from your brain, and then makes it way down through your nerve-endings, which are situated all over your body. The entire process takes place faster than you can imagine...but I digress."

"The main point is, most wizards try to put up shields around their mind, without synching with their magic first. As such, their innate magic itself rebels against the process, causing them much headache – literally and figuratively. In your case, though, you already _are_ synched with your magic. You've covered what wizards take years to accomplish in a matter of a month."

Harry couldn't resist a smug grin, and Calli gave him an exasperated smile.

"But then, why do I need it at all? You told me Occlumency was the protection of one's mind, but it still makes no sense!"

"Yes, but your Occlumency, or mine, is slightly different than the run of the mill Wizard's. For them, Occlumency is simply a defense against Legilimency, or attacks on the mind –"

"And I can already defend against them?"

"Yes," said Calli, "I _said_ that already. Now, -"

"How?" interrupted Harry.

Calli grit her teeth, but there was a distinct sparkle in her eye. "Pull out your wand," she instructed as she had that morning. "Now look me in the eye, and cast the spell. The incantation is _Legilimens._"

Green eyes met violet, and Harry incanted, _'Legilimens!'_

His attack was overpowered and held all the subtlety of a battering ram, but it was still useless.

It was weird, he could feel his own _mind_ attacking hers, but as soon as he entered her psyche, he was overcome by the strongest allure he had ever felt, even greater than the ones she would throw at him during his prior training.

A good three minutes later, he pulled himself off her, grumbling and blushing a beet red. "Must you always do that?" he asked, frustrated.

"Yes," replied Calli with a giggle. "Besides, you were asking for it." Reaching out, she wiped a smudge of lipstick off the corner of his lips, giggling again when he blushed a deeper red.

"Besides, you should be happy," she said, "that was the pleasant version of it. The much, much more pleasant version."

"And the unpleasant version?" asked Harry.

"Ends in death," she replied shortly, and that shut him up. "Anyway, those who try to invade your mind will meet with a similar resistance," she explained, "only yours will be an entropic mess that should reduce them to a gibbering idiot."

Harry grinned, "Would you care to test that?"

She shook her head. "For Magical Creatures, the invasion of another's mind is not only fatal in some cases, but it is also seen as a huge breach of privacy. You'll see that those who employ Legilimency never attack Vampires, or Trolls with their mind – it would mean certain death. Why harm myself just to give you a bit of satisfaction?"

"Right," said Harry, agreeing, but he still felt curious about his mental protections.

"Anyway," she said, "for wizards, Focus and Control are just means to a protection, but for you, it is the ultimate aim behind your Occlumency training. You've met your innate magic, I take it, since you completed your first stage of the training? What was it like?"

Harry thought for several moments, before he decided on the proper word. "Chaotic," he said, and she nodded, pleased. "It was chaotic."

"All magic is," replied the Succubus. "And right now, your magic is like that too. Which is why Occlumency will act like a sort-of controller for your magic – a funnel, if you will. This way, you can control your magical output, and the amount of power you put in each spell too."

Harry shifted, excited. "When do we begin?" he asked.

"Right away," said Calli. "Now, I want you to reach within yourself again...Focus, and control, Harry."

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**2:00 p.m.**

_Control...the soul fragment in the locket waited excitedly, waited to take control._

Ginny gave a yell of delight, and ran forward to hug her brother who had just returned from practice, wearing a tired but pleased grin.

"Ginny, geroff," mumbled Ron, but she hung on to him and decided to give him wet, sloppy kisses all over his face just to annoy him. "Get OFF!"

She finally let go, giggling, as Ron wiped at his face like it had been infected by the Black Death.

"I think this calls for a party," said Fred with a grin, "just us Weasleys!"

"Down to the kitchens we go!" added George.

"Take a bath first," said Ginny, wrinkling her nose. "You _smell_."

"Do we?" said Fred and George with evil grins, and Ron caught on as well, a dark grin taking over his tired features.

Her eyes widened in horror, "No, guys, NO!" but it was too late, as her three brothers converged on her, wrapping her in a smelly, dirty bear hug and holding on for a good two minutes despite her protests.

She was spluttering and almost retching in disgust when they let go. Her wand was out and blazing in a matter of seconds, but her brothers had already vanished up the stairs wisely.

She refused to let the affectionate grin that was threatening to grow on her face show, as she made her way up the stairs to take a bath as well.

She emerged five minutes later after a quick shower, feeling lazy from all the warm water. She reached out to throw her clothes into the wash basket, but frowned as she felt something heavy in the lockets.

The locket had steadily grown in power from its time spent with Ron. Enough to gain a healthy level of sentience, and even produce a few sparks of magic. Those few sparks would be enough for what it had in mind.

Puzzled, she looked the ornate item over, an etching on the back.

"Haishath?" she asked in puzzlement, but before she could react, the locket had burst open, and she was seized upon.

Haishath. _Open,_ in parseltongue.

Ginny Weasley crumpled to her bed, giving no sign that inside her mind, there was an active battle raging. The Horcrux was livid to realise that the witch was much tougher than she looked, and her magic fought tooth and nail to prevent the soul fragment from taking over.

In the end, it was her innate wild magic that won, and took control. It was much more mature than a one-year old baby's magic, so Ginny was able to overcome the fragment that Harry couldn't.

The locket somehow managed to wind itself around her neck and pulled her this way and that, but the deed was done.

Ginny's magic seized all of the Horcrux's power, absorbing it into her. With nothing left to hold on to, the soul fragment gave out, until all that was left were memories from Tom Riddle's mind.

Ginny started as she saw snatches of Voldemort's life play out before her, but she was unable to scream, trapped as she was in the folds of her own mind.

Defeated, the locket melted into nothingness with a hiss, burning her skin. She seized up in pain, but she was helpless.

Five minutes of silent struggling later, Ginny rested on the bed peacefully. She was more powerful, she carried the experiences of arguably the most powerful wizard of his generation, but at the same time, she was carrying a terrible darkness within her – a residue of the Horcrux's magic.

A darkness that would only grow as time passed.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

**3:30 p.m.**

"Well done, Harry," praised Calli. "Now try casting a spell."

Harry threw her a glare, but she kept an innocent look on his face. The teenage wizard before her was obviously run ragged, but he complied anyway.

He lifted his wand, and spoke tiredly, _'Lumos.'_

His wand tip lit up, but this time, it was normal, instead of the blinding white light he'd produced the earlier times.

Harry gave a tired cheer, but Calli wasn't done just yet.

"Now increase the intensity," she told him.

He frowned, but tried channelling more power into the spell. It worked, the light grew larger and brighter.

"Hey!" exclaimed Harry, as he felt the shields he'd managed to put up around his mind erode and fall.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, would it?" smirked Calli. "We'll have to meet up every morning somehow, and work on this. You'll have to build up your shields every morning if you want to function properly, if you want your magic to work properly. Right now, your magic is running wild – chaotic, here one second, not there the next. You need to _control_ it."

Harry scowled, he'd already come to hate those two words in the couple of hours he'd been here.

"Now that we're somewhat done with Control, let's move onto Focus. This is to control your emotions, to protect your mind from outside influences." Harry groaned, and Calli's grin widened. He knew exactly what that entailed.

As soon as he'd managed to put up his shields, he was beset upon by her allure.

As was expected, he ended up in her lap in a matter of seconds.

Two hours and several heated moments later, Harry'd had enough.

"I'm done," he said with a gasp, and Calli giggled but acquiesced. If he was honest with himself, he really,_ really_ needed a wank.

He'd never thought that the path to being a wizard would be so..._hormonal_, for the lack of a better word.

"Can't we try some other emotion than lust the next time?" he asked wearily.

"Why ever would I do that, Harry?" she asked in mock-shock. "Besides, you're a teenager, right now, this is your most potent emotion, like it or not. I don't think I can work you into a blind rage, or make you fall into extreme depression as well. Both of them would involve some deaths, let me tell you."

"So it's either Death or Snogging?" asked Harry. "Tough choice, that."

"That sounds like something Dudley'd listen to," she said with a snort.

His wand was out and covering her in seconds. The evidence had slowly been stacking up against her, but this had been the final straw.

Harry hated to do this, but it was necessary.

"Is that the only wand you're pointing at me, Harry?" she asked in a sultry voice, thinking that it was a prank.

He blushed furiously, and his wand shook, but he kept his stance.

She realized then that he was serious, and her expression changed to one of uncertainty. "Harry?" she asked tentatively.

"I've never mentioned my cousin in front of you, _ever_," he said, "how did you know what his name was?"

She paled drastically, and his heart sank. His suspicions were correct, she'd been lying to him.

"Harry..." she said softly, "please put away your wand."

"Not until you tell me everything, Calli!" said Harry.

"Put away your wand, Harry," said Calli, and this time there was a hint of her Allure in her voice.

He faltered, but he held strong. "No! Don't do that –"

He was cut off by the sound of a loud blast from the village below. He looked out of the cave opening, and saw flashes of spellfire from above.

"This conversation is not over," he said, "_stay_ here."

"I'm coming with you!" protested Calli, but the look in his eyes made her shut up.

"_Stay. Here."_ Said Harry, his voice icy, "or you can leave, and _never_ seek me out again. I don't take well to being lied to or manipulated, Callida."

She flinched at the tone of his voice and his formal usage of her full name.

She opened her mouth to reply, but he was already moving. She made her way over to the mouth of the cave, watching the battle below.

Harry made his way down the rocky incline as fast as possible, reinforcing his mental shields at the same time.

He cast a mild Distortion Charm around him to protect his identity, and nearly cried in relief when it worked.

He was forced into battle almost immediately, though, when he felt two spells coming at him at the same time.

Whirling away, he threw up a shield and retaliated automatically with a stunner. The spell was much more powerful than normal, and already tired from his training, it took another part of his stamina with it.

Thankfully, it managed to knock out one of the attackers and distract the other long enough for Harry to seek cover.

He hid behind a rock and assessed the situation as best he could. The Aurors showed no sign of appearing, and the townsmen were putting up a shoddy defense at best.

He swore as a Killing Curse missed a little child, and he recognized the face of the attacker. It was one of the escaped convicts whose photo Neville had shown him in the newspaper.

He was part of the new group of murderers and killers Voldemort had recruited, and it seemed that their new Master's injury had driven them to anarchy. Untrained unlike the Death Eaters, they'd attempted a strike closest to the man whom the held guilty in an attempt to draw him out – Albus Dumbledore.

He quickly conjured a wall, but it was annihilated by the next _Avada Kedavra._ Snarling, he ran out, twisting to the side to avoid another attack, and cast a _Diffindo._

The man screamed in pain as his wand wrist was severed clean off, and he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding stump.

Harry had no time to pause and think. An army of daggers came his way, which he vanished.

Falling to an old standby, he conjured half a dozen spitting cobras and sent them at the men. The snakes were true to target – the attackers clutched their eyes and began screaming in agony as the venom hit.

Behind him, the villagers made their way back to safety, while the cracks of Apparation announced the arrival of the Aurors.

Deciding that the battle was out of his hands, Harry decided to take himself out of the equation, quickly making his way back to the cave. He'd need to take Calli to the Shrieking Shack, he decided.

The Aurors would no doubt make a sweep of the entire village to flush out any remaining attackers, but he was quite sure they'd steer clear of the Shack – everyone did.

And even if they did go in, he could use the passageway to get back into Hogwarts.

Calli was relieved to see him return, but she was shocked when he grabbed her, threw the Invisibility Cloak over them, and dragged her out of the cave.

They ducked and avoided as they made their way through the spellfire, pausing only when they arrived at the shack.

They had been beaten to it by another group, though. Five of them, Asian by the looks of their faces, had already decided to take shelter in the Shack.

Harry chose that unfortunate moment to trip over his feet, and the men turned, shouting in an unknown language. Harry and Calli landed heavily, the Cloak slipping of them.

Immediately, the men cast Disillusion Charms on themselves and vanished out of view, and began hurling spells at them. The Aurors, too busy with their own fight, never noticed.

"Duck!" shouted Harry, forcing Calli back to the ground. Snapping up a huge shield around him, which crackled with energy, he ran for cover.

He heard a small gasp behind him, no doubt at the display of magic, and he struck.

The magic slipped away from one of the men, as Harry's Stunner hit him, and he fell back in full view, unconscious.

Behind him, another man was shouting out directions in the strange language, Japanese or the like, by the sounds of it.

Calli struck, and her tail reached out and the opening flared, latching itself onto the fallen man's head. His eyes flew open and he gave an agonised yell as he writhed in pain. Calli seemed to glow with some sort of unearthly power, before the man crumpled and fell to the ground, twitching. His eyes were blank, like he'd been kissed by a Dementor.

Calli's on the other hand, were glowing luminously. For a long second, she stared into empty space, before returning to her senses.

The man – the leader, it appeared – shouted again, but this time, Calli seemed ready. She pulled Harry away from the direction the spell had come from, and Harry quickly sent another huge stunner that way. Another attacker fell.

His strength was flagging, but his mind was ablaze with questions. It was almost as if Calli was suddenly understanding every word of what the men were saying.

Suspicion began to grow in his mind...

Calli, meanwhile, had attacked another man, but she was rebuffed in her attempts.

"I need a proper weapon," she muttered when she landed, "If only I could get to the –"

Harry never heard the rest of her sentence, but conjured a sword for her, while casting the _Homenum Revelio _spell. He immediately snapped off another stunner when he detected another attacker, and by that time, Calli had taken care of another.

Panicking, the last person yelled a random word out, and with a flash, portkeys carried away all five of them.

Harry collapsed to the ground, thoroughly winded. After a good few seconds of rest, he hobbled over to Calli and made his way into the Shack with her.

"Explain," he told her shortly, once he'd made his way inside and cast some weak cleaning charms so that the two of them could sit.

"Harry..." she began fearfully.

"You did something to that man, didn't you?" he said accusingly.

Calli nodded, her face set. "I tore into his mind and memories," she said.

Harry was stunned. "What?!" he exclaimed, "but you told me the mind of a wizard was sacred!"

"It was necessary, Harry!" she protested, "and besides, murderers like him hardly qualify for that concession."

Another realization hit him. "You did the same to me, didn't you?" he asked Calli, anger building up within him. "At the Department of Mysteries!"

There was silence, before Calli nodded hesitantly.

"No, Harry, please try to understand!" she said, panicking, as he snarled in anger. "I had just been trapped and tortured by wizards, how was I supposed to know that I could trust you? It could have been a trap set by the Dark Lord!"

Even through his anger, he could see the truth in her words. "Never..._never_ do that again," he said furiously, "my mind is my own!"

She nodded, her eyes a bit wet. "I don't like doing it any more than you do, Harry," she told him, "imagine what those men do over the course of their lives, and I have to relive every second of it. That...that man was single handedly responsible for assaulting seven little children," she said, and the memory of it made her turn even paler.

Harry barely had time to conjure a bucket for her before she retched violently and vomited into it. Rather reluctantly, he held back her hair from her face, and waited until she was done to vanish the bucket and its contents, and cast a Breath-Freshening charm on her.

"Events...events like that stand out a lot," she explained, her voice still shaky, "and back in the Department of Mysteries, I barely glanced into your mind, willing to give you the benefit of the doubt after you saved me. I saw only flashes of your life – your time at the Dursleys, the fight against the man names Quirrell, the night Voldemort attacked your parents..." her voice trailed off, her eyes filling with compassion.

Harry's throat was tight, but there was something she still wasn't telling him.

"What are you still hiding from me, Callida?" he asked harshly, "I may not have known you too long, but I do know that you're a pathetic liar!"

Her face turned sheet-white, and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. "Harry," she croaked, "I'll show you, but you must understand first, I really do care about you."

Her tail drifted up, and made to attach itself to his head. He twitched, but she whispered, "Trust me."

He reluctantly did so, and a strange fog descended over his vision. For a second, there was silence, and then he heard a whispering inside his head, in a strange language.

And then a voice began speaking in English over the whisperings, no doubt Calli was attempting to translate whatever the voice was saying for him.

_**When ten shall fall in line,**_

_**And the Great Darkness awakes within its Shrine,**_

_**Come forth, two must, of different race,**_

_**And bless'd they shall be, with Sky God's grace.**_

_**The Scythemaster's power shall be theirs,**_

_**And bound together, they shall conquer the Speaker's heir.**_

_**But for the struggle to be won,**_

_**Their essence must truly merge as one,**_

_**Or seven months after the splintered Shadow's end,**_

_**Eternal Darkness will finally descend.**_

"What the _hell_ was that?" asked Harry, even though he had a terrible feeling that he knew _exactly_ what it was.

"A prophecy," whispered Calli, "about you and me."

"What?!" exclaimed Harry, "that can't be true, I already have a prophecy about me! It has to be about me!"

'_Come forth two shall of different race,_

_And bless'd they shall be with Sky God's grace'_ she quoted, before lifting her skirt.

Harry's eyes bugged out, but he calmed down somewhat when she showed him the lightning bolt shaped scar on her inner thigh.

"Succubi originally came from ancient Greece, where Zeus was worshipped as the Sky God. The lightning bolt was his personal weapon."

"So what?!" protested Harry angrily, "there can be other people with scars like that! It's just a shape!"

"Only magical scars take shapes like that, Harry," said Calli, her voice still quiet. "Only events of extreme power can give you a scar like that!"

"That still doesn't mean it's me!" shouted Harry, losing his temper. "I have to defeat the Darkest Wizard of all time, and then save the bloody world as well!? ISN'T THAT ASKING TOO MUCH?!"

His magic was starting to act up, and she could see that it was beginning to take a toll on him despite his anger.

"It _is_ you and me, Harry," she explained,"there were events surrounding my birth that made sure that I was one of the Prophesized ones, and later our Seer gave another prophecy that I would be saved by my partner, and we'd be bonded by love..."

Harry whirled around, his green eyes blazing. "Does that mean that all this time, you acted close to me because of some prophecy?!" he growled.

"N-no," she protested, dropping her eyes to the ground.

Her answer was all the reply Harry needed. He gave an inhuman roar of rage, drawing his wand. The four poster bed in the room was blasted to smithereens, but Harry barely noticed. Traces of phoenix fire, that sent adrenaline rushing through him, started up around the room as he wrecked wanton destruction in his fury.

"It was all a lie!" he yelled at her, "a _trick_ to try and fulfil a prophecy that might not even REFER TO ME!" He blew apart an entire section of the wall with his last words, and Calli recoiled in fear. The power coming of him was frightening now.

"Harry, please listen," she begged him, but he'd grasped her by the collar and lifted her up so that she found herself looking into a pair of glowing green eyes. With a thrill of terror, she discovered that Harry's iris now had a ring of gold within the green.

Her eyes met his for a second, and her apprehension rose. "That...day in the bathroom, the day I met you, you were trying to seduce me on purpose, weren't you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

'_Their essence must merge as one...bound together...'_

"That's how you interpreted it, didn't you?" he asked, his voice cold. "And when you saw that I wasn't powerful enough to withstand your wiles, you decided to send me through this hellish training to make me more powerful! All means to your own twisted ends!"

"Harry, no, you don't understand!" she protested, "it started out that way –"he snarled, and she squeaked and quickly continued. The aura coming off him was so strong that all thoughts of using her own powers had completely vanished from her minds. Besides, she didn't want to risk his wrath further by doing so.

"-please, you have to understand, I _do_ care about you!" she ended, her eyes shimmering, her voice pleading. Another time, Harry's heart would have melted at the sight, but he was too far gone in his anger.

"LIES!" he bellowed, throwing her down forcefully. "ALL LIES!"

Calli stood up and reached out, trying to placate her, but a fresh wave of magic off him convinced her otherwise.

"Get out," he whispered suddenly, his voice low and dangerous.

"What?" she was openly crying now, the tears trickling down her cheeks unchecked. "No, Harry, please listen –"

"Dobby!" Harry called for his elf, who appeared on the scene at once. The little elf looked decidedly nervous as he took in the scene before him, "take her away, now!" The elf's eyes widened in shock, and he teetered on the edge of speaking, but decided against it at the last moment.

"NOW!" said Harry, when Dobby made no attempt to move. "And I never want to see her again!" Prophecy be damned, he wasn't about to lied to and cheated.

"Please, Harry," repeated Calli, her voice breaking, "_please listen!_"

"I cared about you," he replied, his own voice cracking, "I trusted you!"

"And you weren't wrong –"

"Yes, I was! You're just like Dumbledore and his order, wanting to manipulate me to satisfy yourself, never looking at me like a _person!_ Take her away, Dobby, or I swear it'll be clothes!"

The elf's eyes widened almost comically, and even before she could do anything, he'd grasped her and popped away.

She broke down completely as she reached the familiar lawns around the Lair. "Please, Dobby!" she took hold of the elf's shoulders and shook, "You have to take me back! You must give me a chance to repair this!"

The elf's squeaky voice was sad but firm when he spoke, "Master Harry Potter told me to take his Calli away," he said, "Master said that he did not want to sees her again. Dobby cannot let Mistress Calli see Harry Potter again!"

Meanwhile, back in the Shack, Harry lost control of his emotions as well, as he fell back on the dusty floor, and anger gave way to grief. Tears trickled down the sides of his face, and made spots on the dirty floor around him, but he paid no heed.

The Dursleys...Ron...Hermione...Calli...was he so unworthy that these people, who were family to him, couldn't even spare genuine, abiding emotions for him?

He may have been Harry Potter, he may have been been the Boy-Who-Lived, he may have been the youngest winner of the Triwizard Tournament in over 700 years, but at that moment, he was simply a teenager, lost and thinking himself to be alone in the world.

**HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP**

Ginny sat alone in the Astronomy Tower, feeling...different.

She was feeling exceptionally good, truth be told. She had her own theories about what had happened, but she couldn't still get over the fact that she had somehow merged with a piece of _Voldemort_, after a fashion.

True, all she had from the experience were vague memories, which were already slipping out of her mind like half-remembered dreams, but she also had cauldrons of more power to go with them.

For the umpteenth time that night, she pulled her wand out, shivering in the pleasant warmth it gave her. She gathered up her power, and whispered _Chiroptera Mucus, _almost crooning the words out.

The spell was so powerful that her wand actually experienced recoil, and it hit the wall towards her and left such a luminous stain that it was nearly three minutes before it faded completely.

She was delighted at the power behind her magic, but the doubt that had been present all day lingered...

_What if she went dark, just like Tom Riddle?_

A tiny voice within her head seemed to answer her question, _Dark is just a matter of perception._

She started out of her thoughts as she heard footsteps below her.

A quick _Tempus _told her it was 10:05 p.m. She grimaced at the thought of some couple coming up for a late night snog.

But her expression changed to a smug anger as she saw Harry making his way up, his crow's-nest hair unmistakeable. She grinned and took aim with her wand, but stopped short as she got a good look of his face.

Harry looked _terrible_. There were dark bags under his eyes, which were a bloodshot red, and tear streaks on his face. His hair was messier than ever, and he looked like someone had kicked his puppy over and over again without mercy.

"Harry," she exclaimed, as he blindly made his way up the stairs, "are you alright?"

She cursed herself for asking such a stupid question. But Harry, instead of answering, stumbled a bit. His eyes searched her face unseeingly for a few seconds, before recognition sparked in them.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. "Have you been crying?"

She expected him to say no and shake his head, but he tiredly nodded instead, before sniffing and rubbing his nose with his sleeves. For the most influential wizard of their generation, he certainly cut a pathetic figure.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice thick with concern, as she guided him over to the benches, and set him down.

He seemed to teeter on the edge of speech for a second, before everything came rushing out. He needed to talk to someone right then, and Ginny just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

So he told her everything, from the very beginning of his Summer, from the fight against the Dementors to the revelations of the evening.

Ginny's face cycled through amusement, anger, concern, horror and mostly jealousy as he poured out every little thought.

His mental safeguards were already loosened by his training and the fight today, and besides, it was like Ginny was almost _giving_ off an aura of comfort.

Which may have not been far for the truth.

Silence reigned when he ended, and Ginny digested all of what he'd said.

Ginny had spent her summer cleaning Grimmauld Place and finishing her Summer homework. Harry, on the other hand, had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, found out about _two _prophecies about him, somehow managed to get himself acquainted with the last member of an _extinct _race of Dark creatures.

The voice in her head seemed to repeat its earlier words..._Dark is just a matter of perception._

As Ginny shifted and leaned against Harry, her hair shifted a bit.

And on the back of her neck, right below the base of her hair, where the locket had almost strangled her, there was a scar.

A tinny, jagged lightning bolt shaped scar.

**Author's Note: Well, you know the drill. Read and review. Sorry for the delay, but you can see why this took time to write. Poetry, major plot points, and the beginning of the Ginny arc.**

**Now, a note on the romance. This will _not_ be a harem. In fact, it'll be a pretty unique romance, if you can call it that. Yes, I've got some pretty darn good ideas about this fic. For people who're picky, this can be treated as both,and I repeat, BOTH a Harry/Ginny or a Harry/Calli fic, it will depend on your point of view and your loyalty to the characters. But yeah, both of them will be involved!**

**But hey, who liked the plot twist with the mark of Zeus? :D That is a rather ambiguous prophecy, if I do say so myself.**

**Actually, I don't even care if you *do* review. I'm proud of this story, the work I've put into it - structuring for later chapters has already begun. In fact, the basic idea for OOTP is done.**

**Ciao, for now.**

**PS - Feel free to give your interpretations of the Prophecy in a PM or reviews. It certainly is both stimulating and entertaining!**


	13. The Trophy and the Missing Student

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Everything is permit – I mean Rowling's.**

**Chapter 13: The Trophy and the Missing Student**

Hermione Granger sat at the breakfast table, nibbling her way through toast and trying her best to ignore Ron's eating habit.

She spared him a glance and almost retched at the sight of his overflowing mouth.

"Ronald!" she admonished, exasperated, "Can't you eat properly?" This was not the first time they'd had this conversation.

"Fo Me-eh aay!" he began, which Hermione interpreted as 'For Merlin's Sake!'

"No!" she said, holding up her hand fiercely, "it is the first day of classes, and I am not willing to get into an argument! And for Merlin's sake, if _you_ don't stop eating like that you'll never get a girlfriend. It's disgusting!" she finished, wrinkling her nose.

Ron's eyes bulged out comically, and his ears turned a bright red. Swallowing his food with a gulp so mighty it would have sunk a small ship, he took the next bite at a much more sedate pace and took care to chew properly like his Mum had taught him for the Christmas Dinners at Aunt Muriel's.

He glanced slyly at Hermione to see if she approved, but she had already buried her nose back into the book she had been reading. Rolling his eyes, he raised his fork with relish, spearing three sausages at once.

The redhead froze with his hand midway to his mouth, though, when he noticed Lavender Brown staring at him. Suddenly self-conscious for some inexplicable reason, he primly chewed off only half of the topmost sausage and gave her a smile, making sure to keep his mouth closed as he chewed.

She giggled and smiled back brightly, before turning away to her conversation with her best friend Parvati Patil.

He smiled even more widely, and went back to eating his sausages properly, not bothering to make sure if Hermione was paying attention this time.

Hermione, on the other hand, was going through the first three chapters of her Transfiguration book for the year, just in case McGonagall decided to review at the start of the class. Her Head of House had informed them yesterday that the fifth year's first class would be with her when she came to hang up the Gryffindor Quidditch Squad in the Common Room – Ron had been ecstatic to be made Keeper, he'd only just shut up about it today morning.

She mentally went over her list of things for the day – an apple if she got hungry between classes, her eagle feather quill, her colour change ink so she could spruce up her notes, two rolls of parchment, and finally her Transfiguration book.

She gave a sigh of satisfaction as McGonagall descended from the Head Table and started handing out schedules; she was set for the day.

The Muggleborn witch looked over her timetable for the year with interest, but her head jerked up when she heard McGonagall speak. "Has anybody seen Mr. Potter this fine morning?" she asked, her lips thin, "class starts in twenty-five minutes and he still hasn't been down for breakfast."

By sheer co-incidence, the boy wizard in question was walking through the doors to the Great Hall at that very moment, looking none too better for the wear. He had an impossibly tired gait about him, his eyes looked bloodshot even from a distance, and his hair looked like a storm had passed through it.

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall with slight concern as he approached, "I trust you are feeling well this morning?"

Like always, Hermione expected him to answer with the usual 'I'm fine', but she was caught off guard by his answer.

"Better now that I've seen your beautiful face illuminated by the golden sunlight, Professor," he said with a roguish win which quite didn't reach his eyes.

Conversation damn near halted at the Gryffindor table as many a disbelieving eye turned towards the normally shy and reserved kid.

As several mouths opened in synchronisation, but Neville beat them to it.

"Don't bother," he said, shaking his head. "He'll tell you about how near death situations can give you a much brighter view of life –"

"He's got a point," interjected Lee Jordan with a roguish grin.

"Instead," piped up one of the Weasley twins from somewhere down the table, "we have a much better story about Hedwig and Harry!" Next to them, Ginny snorted into her porridge, but merely looked innocent when Harry glared at her.

Shaking her head at the antics of her student while simultaneously trying to eavesdrop on her students, McGonagall handed him his schedule, "Make sure you'll be on time for my class, Mr. Potter," she said firmly, before turning and walking away to the sixth years.

"Oh, and Potter?" she asked, turning her head.

"Yes?" asked Harry, even as he quickly grabbed a stack of toast from the table and made to move off again.

"Be ready, I still haven't forgotten our prior conversation," she said.

He looked confused for a second before he realised that he was talking about assessment of his own skills at Grimmauld Place, and gave her a grin. "Oh I will be, Professor," he assured her with a grin. "I will be."

With that he took off at a run, leaving Hermione behind with narrowed eyes and a furiously working brain as she too thought back to that rather tumultuous evening.

_Was Harry speaking the truth?_ She wondered. From what she had seen that day, he wasn't really lying, and besides, her old friend never really was much of the lying sort to begin with.

She looked back at her Transfiguration book with increased determination. Even if Harry's words turned out to be true, she had no desire to allow him to take over her spot as the top of their year. She had no illusions, her skill lay mainly with theory even though her power was nothing to sneeze at, but Harry was light years ahead of her when it came to the practical side of things. And sadly, the practical parts took up a greater portion of their OWLs except for History and Astronomy.

This fact was only confirmed by McGonagall twenty minutes later as she gave her OWL speech, making all the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs – who would be sharing Transfiguration this year – increasingly nervous.

Harry, though, who had arrived at the last moment and fairly dived into an open seat next to Susan Bones, was smirking slightly at Professor McGonagall.

Shocking at this was, even more disconcerting was the fact that McGonagall had noticed, and she seemed to be returning smirk, nigh invisible though it was.

She wrenched herself out of her thoughts, berating herself because she might have missed important hints for the upcoming examinations.

"Now," finished McGonagall sometime later, "we shall start off with a basic review. Any volunteers?"

Hermione's hand had barely started its ascent into the air when McGonagall said, "No one? Very well, Mr. Potter, if you would kindly come forward?"

The class winced in unison; it seemed Harry had irked the Gryffindor Head of House somehow and was paying the price for it.

"Right," said McGonagall, her eyes glinting. "We shall be starting off simple. Mr. Potter, if you would kindly transfigure this box of matches into needles in one go?"

Harry raised his wand, but McGonagall interrupted. "No, no," she beckoned, "stand here, so everybody can see your attempts and the results."

Harry grinned at the challenge, but accepted it with grace. With a whispered incantation and the laziest of flicks, the entire box of matches now contained needles. Those who didn't remember the spell winced, they'd hoped Harry would speak it aloud and jog their memories.

McGonagall, who'd been inspecting the needles nodded, apparently satisfied. "Now," she said, "if you could turn this mouse into a goblet and back, and then into a statue?"

Teacher and student continued in this vein for a while as the tasks got increasingly difficult. Harry, though, seemed completely at ease, completing them with the barest of efforts.

The class was left watching with baited breath, and finally, when Harry completed the last task, transfiguring a turtle into a teapot, which they'd done at the end of last year, the entire classroom burst into applause. Some, of course, stayed silent, their impression of him coloured by the Daily Prophet.

He grinned and acknowledged it with a nod of his head. When the clapping died down, McGonagall appeared thoroughly impressed as well. "That was an extremely impressive display, Mr. Potter," which from her was extreme praise, "I daresay that'll earn Gryffindor twenty-five points. You may return to your seat."

Harry did so with a respectful nod, smiling a bit smugly at Susan who was staring at him with something approaching awe.

"Now, as Mr. Potter so expertly demonstrated," spoke up the Professor from the front of the class once he'd taken his seat, "you must be well-versed with everything we've covered up to this year, as they have every chance of appearing in your OWL examinations. I will be passing out these at random, and you must demonstrate what I ask of you."

Several students groaned, but shut up sharply when her lips thinned.

Hermione was chosen first, and she managed to do all the spells perfectly as well even though it didn't get her applause as well as House Points – her work looked nowhere near as effortless as Harry's. She sat down, the cogs in her head turning at full steam, as she tried to figure out what to make of this entire situation.

* * *

Despite outward appearances, Harry was not having the best of days. He was still emotionally exhausted from the events of the day before, and was dog tired after having slept for only three hours.

Worst of all, his temporary Occlumency shields were all but gone, despite his efforts in the subject after he'd woken up. He'd even had to forgo a proper breakfast because Occlumency had made him late, and so he was hungry as well.

Groaning as his stomach rumbled, he ignored his desire for food and instead turned right on the third floor to access Fluffy's room. It was the nearest place for him to get some peace and solitude to work on his mind. His tenuous hold on his magic was already slipping, and he didn't think he could last through Charms after his extensive Transfiguration work with McGonagall. Suffering through a period of History after that gave him a headache on top of it, and he'd somehow resisted from setting his notes on fire and giving in to his drooping eyes.

He grit his teeth as the suggestion to skive off Charms after lunch appeared tantalisingly within his head (Flitwick, enamoured as he was with Harry, surely wouldn't mind...). He shook his head, as if the action would physically drive that thought, however enticing it was, out of his head.

He had set himself upon the path to greatness, and he knew that even the smallest amount of slacking could cost him later. Besides, as he'd demonstrated before, the tiniest of bad habits could turn into the biggest of vices, and he had no desire to go back to his eleven year old state.

Sighing, he made his way into the corridor, and took the left until he found himself at the door. Pushing it open, and smiling slightly as he thought of old times, he made his way inside.

To his surprise, the room looked much the same as it had four years ago. The trapdoor still stood innocently in the centre, covered by a thin layer of dust that had accumulated on the floor.

He pulled his wand out and gave his wand a wave. '_Evanesco!'_ he thought, concentrating hard.

Nothing happened, so he grit his teeth and tried again. This time, every ounce of dust vanished off every visible surface in the room, leaving it in pristine condition.

Sighing heavily, he threw his bag down and raised his wand again. Thankfully, he was able to conjure a squashy sofa (he hated to admit that he was influenced by Dumbledore in this area), and he groaned aloud in relief as he sank into it.

He finally acknowledged the steadily building headache that he'd managed to ignore throughout the morning and reached up to mildly caress his pounding temple.

Three attempts at a _Tempus_ told him forty-five minutes of lunch remained, which meant Charms was an hour away.

Instantly deciding that he could go hungry for a while if it meant some shut he, he closed his eyelids with pleasure, experiencing those strange yet commonplace little tingles down his spine.

His rest, however, was short-lived. He was jerked awake for no apparent reason, and he grumbled and complained as he fumbled about blindly for his wand. Casting a _Tempus_, he reluctantly cracked an eyelid open and saw that he'd been asleep for only twenty minutes.

_Knock, knock!_ He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the sound of fists colliding with the trapdoor directly beneath him. Wide awake now, he leapt aside and trained his wand on the sofa, drawing in his magic. With a tiny flick, he banished the sofa aside, and winced when his bag went flying with it into the wall.

He paid no attention to it, though, as he kept his sights firmly on the trapdoor. Years of living at Hogwarts had told him not to be complacent when it came to such matters.

The trapdoor was pushed open suddenly; Harry tightened his grip on his wand.

His jaw fell open in shock, though, when a girl suddenly climbed out of the trapdoor.

He was able to tell from the blue lining on her rather dusty robes that she was a Ravenclaw. She had dirty blonde hair which reached her waist, he caught sight of her wand tucked behind her ear. She turned her eyes towards him – a protuberant pair of grey eyes that gave her a permanently surprised looks – and she smiled brightly at him, not at all mirroring his own expression of confusion.

"Harry Potter," she said, her voice distant yet strangely melodious. There was a pause which turned into an awkward silence as she said nothing to follow up her previous words.

Feeling quite out of sorts, Harry brandished his wand, "Who are you? What were you doing down there?"

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she introduced herself, her staring grey eyes making him feel slightly uncomfortable. "You can call me Loony, though, that's what everybody does behind my back." She said the last part in a whisper, though she seemed unfazed by her own words.

"Er..." said Harry, at a loss for words for the first time in many months, "er...no, that's fine."

She smiled again at him, saying, "That's nice of you."

"No problem," said Harry hastily, now feeling distinctly unnerved.

Luna seemed to have picked up on his discomfort. "Don't worry," she said, "it's only awkward because of the Nargles."

"Nargles?" asked Harry, mystified.

"Yes, they're invisible creatures," said Luna. "They flit around your head and don't allow you to think straight."

"Er..." said Harry again, still feeling out of his depth. He'd never heard of Nargles before, but took her word for it. "Is there any way you can get rid of them?"

If he thought she had been smiling brightly before, she looked positively ecstatic now. "Oh, nobody's asked me that before, Harry Potter!" He thought about telling her to call him just Harry, but decided against it hastily, some things weren't worth it.

He was in for a shock, though, when she came at him without warning and kissed him full on the lips. He was too stunned to do anything but stand there limply until she pulled away, and said, "There, that's not so bad now, is it?"

"I was searching for traces of Purplewinged Philanderers here," she continued normally, as if she hadn't just kissed him without warning, "but it seems they're long gone. Shame, they normally lead people to lots of hidden treasure."

She skipped towards the door, and paused as she opened it and made to slip out.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter. Beware of the Nargles, they like mistletoe!" and with that, she was gone just as strangely as she'd arrived, leaving a stunned Harry behind.

"Right," said Harry, coming to his senses a good few moments later, "I'm still asleep, and this is a really messed up dream. I'll wake up...NOW!" He yelled the last word and snapped his eyes open further with force, only to confirm that he'd been awake the entire time and that the entire incident had indeed just happened.

"Right," he said to himself, trying to keep it normal, "a girl suddenly appeared out from a trapdoor, told me about two creatures I know nothing about, kissed me, and then ran off. Just another day in the life of Harry Potter," he muttered. "No problem, Harry." Belatedly, he realized that the girl looked quite pretty in her own way, which made him feel slightly better about the whole thing.

Sighing, he summoned the sofa and bag over to him, careful now to steer clear of the trapdoor (just in case that any other dotty blondes decided to climb out of it and accost him). He cursed when he realised that he had only twenty minutes to Charms, and he quickly transfigured the sofa into a cushion and plopped himself down on it.

Concentrating hard, he tried to clear his mind of all thoughts and emotion like Calli had instructed.

He gave up almost immediately; just thinking about the Succubus filled his head with hundreds of myriad thoughts.

_Was he able to access his inner self so easily thanks to whatever she'd done with her tail? Had he done the right thing by agreeing to her tutelage without much protest? Was he –_ he gulped slightly –_right in his treatment of her yesterday?_

He was acutely aware of the fact that it was Calli's birthday today, and he himself had given her such high hopes about it.

_No!_ He admonished himself, if it was one thing he wouldn't tolerate after all these years, it was somebody manipulating and lying to him. And what Calli had done to him bordered on major betrayal to him.

Harry was nothing if not stubborn, he swore to himself that he wouldn't give in for quite a while, not until she properly apologized or explained to him. Knowing Calli, that would take some time as well...probably _never._

He also realised that sooner or later he might need her help, especially if Occlumency would turn out so difficult to manage. He was loath to beg her, though; he would go through every possible book with a fine comb before even thinking of talking to her.

He couldn't help wondering about her, though – cursing himself, he nevertheless called out, "Dobby!"

The house-elf appeared before him with his customary crack!

"Dobby," began Harry tentatively, "How is Calli doing?"

The house-elf's eyes widened, and he swayed slightly on the spot, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Harry's heart sank, this would not bode well for him.

"Dobby?" he asked again in trepidation.

"Mistress Calli is being gone, Harry Potter Sir," squeaked the house-elf in a frightened voice.

_Gone?_ Harry's insides went cold, "What do you mean, gone?" he asked, shocked.

"She is packing her thingsies and leaving, Sir," said the house-elf, seeming genuinely sad, "saying she has no use for Harry Potter's house if he refuses to even see her again."

Harry winced, his own words of last night coming back to him.

"Thank you for telling me, Dobby," he said, his heart heavy despite his mind's logic. "You may leave."

The elf seemed like it wanted to do otherwise, but with one last long look, he vanished from Harry's sight.

Harry sat there blankly for a second or two, before he blinked his eyes several times in quick succession and went back to his Occlumency. Forcibly pushing back all his thoughts, he concentrated on the task at hand.

He visualised darkness before him, stretching out in all directions, all-encompassing, overwhelming. Reaching in to his core, he found a tiny spark of light.

It was nothing more than a little sparkle, but it shook when he gave it a mental nudge, and it split into two. Chasing each other in a perfect cycle, together they formed an endless cycle, a complete balance.

He concentrated on that cycle, and nothing else. The two sparks grew faster and faster in speed, before they were in sync with his magic.

And his consciousness exploded outwards in a glorious explosion of sensations, and suddenly, he was anything and everything, there and not there at the same time.

Struggling, he made an effort to move onto the next and hardest step of Occlumency. He tried to make sense of the entropy all around, and to try to recognize _himself_ amidst all the chaos. Ignoring the magical pandemonium around him, he concentrated on himself, a void in the middle of all the magic, yet a part of the magic itself.

Slowly, very slowly, he felt himself assert control over his being, as he was able to define himself as a separate being. And even more slowly, he felt metaphorical filter form around him, limiting the magic he could channel. It was almost as if someone were raising metaphorical dams around his mind to control the outflow of power.

The shrill ringing of the bell to signal the end of lunch jerked him rudely out of his thoughts, and he immediately lost control, snapping back to reality.

Cursing his annoyance, he shouldered his bag and made his way to Charms. While Occlumency had calmed him down and refreshed him somewhat, he was sure that it would barely last more than three-quarters of an hour, with what little time he'd meditated.

Praying for a bit of luck, since he knew that he would have little time to continue in the evening thanks to homework, he made his way to Charms, joining the growing crowd of people in the corridors.

He walked alone, Luna Lovegood entering his thoughts again as a Ravenclaw girl brushed past him. He was unsure about what to think about the entire affair, since the girl gave a distinct aura of being rather..._dotty_.

He found himself at the Charms classroom a few moments later to find a beaming Flitwick alone in the classroom – the others had yet to arrive.

"Ah, Mr. Potter!" exclaimed the diminutive teacher, "I suppose you're excited about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" asked Harry, mystified. Flitwick's smile diminished somewhat.

"You weren't at Lunch today? The Triwizard Awarding Ceremony is tomorrow!" He said, when Harry shook his head no.

Harry barely bit back a groan, he had completely forgotten about the Ceremony. Flitwick, it seemed, had noticed his expression.

"Right, I'll just leave you to it then," said the Professor, giving one last weak smile before moving off to the front of the class and walking onto the stack of books on the desk.

Harry took a seat at the very back of the class, already wishing for the day to be over.

It was not to be. The very second Flitwick had finished his lecture on OWLs, he called upon Harry for review.

Feeling the gaze of every Ravenclaw and Gryffindor upon him, Harry fairly pulled himself out of his seat, forced a tiny smile on his face and strode forward.

It was a good half-hour later that Harry was finally done, and he winced rather than acknowledged the applause and jealous glances he received.

His head now beating a tattoo, his body exhausted, his magic rebelling, Harry slumped down on his chair when Flitwick told him he was done, slammed his head down on his Charms book, and shamelessly snored through the lesson while others practised.

Only the bell ringing woke him up, and he groggily awoke to make his way back to Gryffindor Tower. Once back within the safe confines of his dormitory, he threw himself upon his bed and continued his nap, all thoughts of homework forgotten.

* * *

"Professor?" asked Ginny, as she reluctantly knocked on Umbridge's door and then pushed it open.

"Ah, Ms. Weasley!" exclaimed Umbridge with an ugly smile, "come in, come in!"

Ginny walked inside, and immediately, she was assaulted by the colour pink – _everything_ in the room was that accursed colour.

"You like my decorations?" simpered the toad-like woman, though her eyes were cold.

Hating the woman immensely, and not trusting herself to speak, Ginny only gave a terse nod.

"Wonderful!" said Umbridge, clapping her hands together, though Ginny found nothing wonderful about the situation. "Now, take a seat, Ms. Weasley."

Ginny acquiesced, sitting down at the desk, staring at the parchment and rather elaborate quill that was set before her.

"We shall be doing lines today, Ms. Weasley," said the woman, her smile growing wider.

Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes. If lines were the worst she could do, this woman's bark was definitely worse than her bite.

"Right, then," she said, "what will I be writing?"

"_I must not behave badly,"_ she dictated, and Ginny nodded.

She took the quill and looked about. "Professor?" she asked, puzzled, "there's no ink."

"Oh, you won't be needing any," assured the woman, her smile, if possible, growing even wider.

Ginny had lots of comments in reply to that, but she kept a leash on her tongue. Thinking that the woman was crazy, she scratched the words onto the parchment, biting her tongue to keep from laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

She wrote the first line on the paper, _I must not behave badly._

She gasped as her hand gave a sharp sting, and the words appeared in red on the parchment.

A slight metallic taste drifted up to her nose, and she immediately recognized it as blood.

"What bullshit is this?!" she demanded, pouncing up from her seat and pulling out her wand.

"Sit down, Ms. Weasley," Umbridge commanded, her voice cold, all traces of her smile gone.

"Like hell I will!" retorted Ginny, "this can't be legal!" She whirled around and made to stalk out –

"_Hem, hem –"_

Ginny paid no attention, moving to the door and wrenching it open.

"Arthur Weasley –"

The two words froze her movements, and she turned back, her eyes blazing.

Umbridge gave a smile of victory. "Arthur Weasley seems to be getting on in age, wouldn't you agree, Ms. Weasley? He certainly has gained no favours during his time with the Ministry, and he's always rather toed the line, with his unnatural and disgraceful obsession for Muggles. One step out of line, and he might be _removed,_" she finished with a little laugh, "and how_ sad _that would be, would it not?"

"You can't do that!" she spat in anger.

"Are you willing to take the risk, Ms. Weasley?"

Ginny seethed in rage. This woman was _blackmailing_ her.

She saw no other option, though. Gnashing her teeth, she walked back and sat back down on the chair.

"Now," said Umbridge, "keep writing until I order you to stop."

Unfiltered hate ran through Ginny. A shiver went up her spine, and for a second, she contemplated pulling her wand out and blasting the infernal woman into oblivion.

"Ms. Weasley?" asked Umbridge rather uncertainly, and she jerked out of it. She realized that her own eyes had been boring into Umbridge's beady ones, and broke eye contact and looked down.

Steeling herself, she hardened her resolve and wrote, _I must not behave badly._

* * *

Tuesday, sadly, did not turn out to be a better day for Harry. His Occlumency was still shoddy at best, non-existent at worse, and his headache seemed worse when he awoke the next morning after many solid hours of sleep.

He mildly wondered if it had anything to do with his terrible Occluding, perhaps his mind could not take the erratic magical flow and was rebelling against it. He decided not to follow that train of thought, as it hurt too much to think.

Instead, he focused on gorging himself with food, trying to satisfy the bottomless pit that had taken the place of his stomach. He felt a measure of peace as he downed two sausages at once, thinking that the day would start looking up once he was well fed.

It was not to be. He was accosted as soon as he finished breakfast and made his way out to the Entrance Hall.

"POTTER!" He winced, his head protesting, as he heard the shrill scream behind him. He turned around to see Angelina, looking none too kindly at him.

"_Where_ were you this Sunday?" she hissed angrily, and Harry swore. He'd completely forgotten about Quidditch Trials.

"I'm so sorry," he began, but she was in no mood to listen.

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" she yelled. "You." She jabbed a finger in his chest. "Are. Our. Seeker. You. Cannot. Miss. Practices." Each word was emphasized with another poke to his chest.

"Gee, Angelina," he protested weakly, "if you wanted physical contact, you could just ask."

Silence. Angelina's face turned to stone, and Harry paled drastically.

_**Not**__the right thing to say,_ he thought ruefully.

Her eyebrows twitched. "Watch who you're talking to, Potter!" she snarled. "I am your Captain and superior, and I will not be talked to that way! And this is the last time you miss a practice! Why weren't you there in the first place?!" Her voice was beginning to grate on his nerves, and the crowd gathering around them wasn't helping.

"I had things on my mind –" he supplied weakly.

"Things on your mind! Something more important than your commitment to your House Team? What could possibly take your mind away from that?!"

"I don't know!" snapped Harry, losing his temper. "Maybe it was the fact that I had to participate in a Tournament that damn near killed me last year, and then I had to watch a friend die before my eyes! That tends to take you out of it!"

There was suddenly dead silence in the Hall, and he'd regretted his outbreak as soon as he'd closed his mouth.

Angelina's eyes were suddenly bright, and she was opening and closing her mouth without making any sound.

She finally made a choking sound before dashing off sharply, and Alicia and Katie, who had sidled up next to her, threw her deeply disappointed looks before following her.

Harry sighed, wanting nothing better than to follow Angelina, but he knew that it wouldn't be the best of times. This magic thing, whatever was going on with him, it was making his life hell, playing with his mind and magic and emotions. He was half-wishing that he could turn back time and take it back, but he knew that was just wishful thinking.

_All power comes at a price, Harry_, Lupin's word from one of their lesson's came back to him, and he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to calm the emotions bubbling up within him. He had to regain control of himself and his life somehow – everything had started spiralling out of control again over the weekend, and he hated the feeling.

He instead set his mind to thinking how he would apologise to Angelina as he made his way up to the fifth floor for DADA lessons. It had the added bonus of taking his mind of the dreaded Umbridge lesson. He didn't even have Hagrid to look forward after lunch today, thanks to the fact that Grubbly-Plank was now teaching Care of Magical Creatures.

He also reminded himself to ask the COMC teacher about Hedwig.

His prayer for the apology was miraculously answered in the form of Katie Bell, though. He found her lounging outside the Defense Classroom. Her eyes met his and it was obvious that she had been waiting for him.

"Angelina wants you to know that there's a practice tomorrow, and the entire Quidditch team would be grateful if you could make it there," she said dryly.

Harry grimaced. "Right," he said, "I'll be there, I promise." She nodded, and was about to take off, when he called her back, "Hey, Katie!"

She turned back to face him, eyebrows raised in question. "Is there any way I could apologize to Angelina?" he asked sheepishly.

She looked at him for a moment, as if sizing him up, before answering, "Chocolate seems to work when it comes to Angie."

He smiled, "Thanks, Katie," and to his surprise, she returned a small smile of her own.

"You're a good guy, Harry," she told him lightly. "Word of advice, keep your mouth shut in the toad's class." And she was gone, leaving him wondering what she meant by her words.

He turned to make his way towards the classroom, but yelped in fear as he suddenly found himself face to face with a pair of dreamy grey eyes.

"Luna!" he exclaimed, trying to calm his breathing, "you scared me!"

"That was a nice thing you just did, Harry Potter," she told him, ignoring his protests. "Your head seems to be a bit free of Nargles now."

He leaned away slightly, just in case she decided to attack him again. "Right." He said. "Why aren't you in class, Luna?"

"Oh, we have a free period now," she told him, "Charms doesn't start till this one's over."

"Oh, right," he said again. For some reason, Luna always made him seem slightly foolish. He noticed that she seemed to be wearing a Butterbeer cork necklace.

She noticed him staring, and fingered the necklace with a smile. "Do you like it?" she asked him, "Of course, you could just be staring at my breasts, but since they're not that well-developed yet, I don't think that's what you were doing."

Harry discovered what it was like to choke on thin air. "Luna!" he protested weakly. "I wasn't looking at your...your..."

"Yes," agreed Luna sadly, "they are a bit small, aren't they?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell her they weren't, but then snapped it shut. There were some things best left unsaid.

"Say, Luna," he said instead. "Would you like to do me a favour?" He pulled out a box of Chocolate Frogs he'd bought on the train but left unopened, "would you go to the Owlery and use a school owl to send this to Angelina during lunch? I'll pay you a Galleon," he added hopefully.

"Oh, I'll do it for free!" The fourth year seemed delighted, "it would be like doing a favour for a friend!"

"Luna, I suppose you are my friend now," said Harry a bit warily, and Luna only grinned wider, if a bit unsettlingly.

"That's nice of you to say, Harry Potter," she said. "Would you like a note with it?"

"Yeah," said Harry, grateful for the idea, hastening as the bell rang. Sending her off with a hurriedly written note, he dashed into the classroom and took his seat only in the nick of time before Umbridge made her way in.

Her very first order of "Wands away!" sent dubious looks through the children, not least her insistence that they wish her a good morning properly.

Her words that they would not be practising magic all year set off a minor revolt amongst the students, especially the more studious Ravenclaws, with whom they were sharing classes.

Harry could barely care less; in all honesty, he could perform the practical section of Defense Against the Dark Arts in his sleep. He was more focused, though, on the loathing he felt for the woman, who'd almost caused him and his cousin to lose their souls over the summer.

She'd almost had him expelled from Hogwarts, unable to continue his education. And she was still out for his blood.

Harry focused on breathing in and out slowly to calm himself like Calli had taught him, he had even found that doing such exercises could help him rein in his magic a bit. He was content to let his classmates fight out their battles and waste as much of the period as they could.

A fact that seemed to take Umbridge by surprise, actually. No doubt she'd expected some sort of protest from him, after all, she was still looking at him out of the corner of her eyes.

Harry had no desire for open confrontation with this woman, not just yet. She had to be dealt with differently, he had no desire to lose his temper before her and give her just what she wanted.

He found it increasingly difficult to do so, though, when the conversation turned to Sirius.

"What about the escaped Death Eaters?" protested Seamus, "how do we defend ourselves from them?"

Harry had to admit he was intrigued by this discussion. Sunday's incident had led to the imposition of curfew all over Magical Britain, and over Hogwarts as well, similar to the security measures of third year. There were no Dementors around, though, which did not mean good things – Harry suspected that they'd already switched sides.

Of course, Dementors made him think about Calli, and that only made him feel worse.

"Mr. Finnigan, I promise you that you will not be put in any situation where you will have to face the Death Eaters. Our Aurors are working day and night to ensure both your safety and the capture of the escaped criminals. Moreover, you are safe here at Hogwarts!"

"What about Black?" protested Seamus, "he broke into Hogwarts two years ago! How do we know we're safe now?"

"We believe the convict Black was aided by people within the school!" protested Umbridge shrilly, beginning to lose her cool, "not least his filthy, half-blooded creature friend Lupin! When sufficient evidence is found, both Black and his accomplices will be punished severely!"

There were cries of outrage from the students at Umbridge's jibe at Lupin, even the normally reserved Fay Dunbar looked furious.

Harry, for his part, struggled to keep control of his temper. He could feel an irrepressible urge to walk up and physically strangle the woman until she suffocated to death, but he compensated by grabbing the edges of his desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. Next to him, Neville noticed and paled slightly, obviously fearing a confrontation.

"Enough!" shrieked Umbridge at long last, "the next person to speak out of turn will be given a month of detention!" The class fell silent at once.

Forcing a neutral look on her face, she told them, "Now open to page 7 of your book and read the first chapter."

Harry bent his head down with a small sigh. The book was a waste of time – he'd gone over it during the holidays, since it had become tradition for him to devour the book on Defense as soon as he got it.

The book was of such poor quality that it had taken him one good, yet disbelieving read through to know the basics of everything the book said. It was obvious that the author had never once been in a fight himself, and so he'd thought that it was just supposed to be the theoretical supplement for their course, to be largely ignored like in third year.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" he looked up. _This should be interesting._

"I've read the first chapter, Professor," she said crisply.

"Well then, move onto the next one," ordered Umbridge.

"I've read that too, Professor," replied Hermione. "I've read the entire book."

"Indeed?" asked Umbridge, raising her eyebrows. Harry was not the only one watching the confrontation now. "Perhaps then, dear, you will be able to tell us what Mr. Slinkhard says about Counter-Curses in Chapter 13?"

Harry could see that Umbridge was impressed despite herself. "Well, then, Ms, Granger," she forced out at last, "the best advice I can give you is to revise."

Hermione made no move to sit, though. "But I disagree," she stated firmly. Harry grinned, _this was going to be good._

Hermione ended up inciting another period of anarchy in the classroom, when she eventually made her way back to the same point the students had protested against earlier.

"What about You-Know-Who?!" asked Ron finally, losing his temper. "What are we supposed to do about him?"

Harry groaned silently, Weasley had just screwed up the entire class. There was a hushed silence, and more than one student sneaked a look at Harry as well. Umbridge too, seemed to be waiting for him to speak, but he remained silent and impassive, his face betraying no emotion.

"Mr. Weasley," she said sweetly when no words from Harry were forthcoming, though there was a slightly sour look on her face, "you have been told that a certain Dark Wizard has returned. _This is a lie._"

"You're the one lying!" yelled Ron, "Harry was there, he saw him return!"

Harry closed his eyes in defeat, Ron, it seemed, still had some growing up to do before he could stop inserting his foot into his mouth.

Umbridge's eyes were gleaming in triumph, though. "That's what he's been saying, has he, Mr. Weasley?"

"Detention, Mr. Potter, for two weeks!" she said, turning towards him. "Your lies will no longer be tolerated at Hogwarts!"

"I – no-" protested Ron half-heartedly, stunned at this sudden turn of events.

Umbridge rounded on him instead, "So you were lying to me then, Mr. Weasley?"

"No!" protested Ron, a bit more strongly this time. Harry gripped his desk so hard he thought it would shatter.

"Well then, the punishment stands. You simply must not tell such terrible lies, Mr. Potter. Meet me in my office tomorrow night at 6."

Ron looked thunderstruck; he had fallen completely silent, his face burning red. Harry sighed, even though his mind was screaming to take his wand out and throw a bone-breaker in Ron's direction.

"Yes, Professor," he acknowledged quietly, and Ron winced at his emotionless answer.

Ron opened his mouth again in the middle of the class, and Harry was sure he'd damn near curse the foolish redhead if he so much as spoke once more.

Thankfully, the bell chose that moment to ring, and Harry was first out the door, not even bothering to put his book back into his bag as he simply picked it up and left.

Divination did nothing to improve his good humour. He was fuming by the time he went to the Great Hall for lunch, and was perilously close to cursing the next idiot who chose to point at him and whisper. He'd rather not do the stupid ceremony if it meant increased gossip about him and Cedric.

His mood was made slightly better though when a smiling Angelina came over to him at lunch and thanked him for the apology.

He blushed a bit when she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, the Gryffindor Chaser was quite buxom for her age, to put it lightly. He was thankful he had to put up with a Succubus for the duration of the Summer, though, it allowed him to keep better control in such situations.

"By the way," he asked, "who's the new Keeper?"

"Ron Weasley," she informed him, and he gripped his fork a bit tighter as he struggled to keep an impassive face; he didn't need to scare off the poor girl again.

"Great," he said, forcing a smile-cum-grimace on his face. "What about the Carver girl?"

Angelina looked mystified. "What Carver girl are you talking about?"

"You know, the seventh year student? Italian, dark hair, transfer student?"

"Harry, _who_ are you talking about?" asked Angelina, perplexed. "Oy, Alicia, Katie!" She called them forward, and asked them the same question.

Both girls denied that they'd ever met such a girl.

"You're pranking me, right?" Harry asked with a weak grin, "Come off it, how can you not remember her?"

"Harry, we're serious," said Angelina, her face absolutely straight, "are you feeling all right?"

Harry's instincts were suddenly on full alert, he had a gut feeling that there was something fundamentally wrong.

"Yeah," he assured them, "I goofed up, I was thinking about someone else there." He added a small chuckle for good measure.

None of the three chasers looked convinced. "Well, all right then," said Angelina uncertainly, "oh, and don't forget, practise from six tomorrow."

"In the morning?" he asked, suddenly dreading the worst.

The three girls laughed. "No," said Angelina with a grin, "we won't be going the way of Wood this year. Six in the evening tomorrow at the Quidditch Pitch."

Harry winced. "About that," he offered weakly, "I won't be able to do it."

"What?!" exclaimed Angelina, her eyes narrowing at once. Thankfully, Neville uncharacteristically came to Harry's rescue.

"Lay off him," he said, "it wasn't Harry's fault."

Angelina was now mad at Ron when the story was told, much to Harry's joy. She was even looking at Harry with sympathy.

"I'll talk to Umbridge, see if I can do anything about it," she offered weakly. He nodded along, knowing that nothing would come of it.

He was correct. Ron's dressing down was quite enjoyable, though Harry suspected Ginny didn't like the part where he got increasingly jumpy and put his elbow in the butter dish suddenly.

The redheaded female refused to meet his eyes after that for the entire duration of lunch.

* * *

Seven o'clock found Harry waiting at the Entrance Hall with – much to his displeasure – Albus Dumbledore.

"Our guests shall begin arriving soon, Harry," said the Headmaster to his young student, who only nodded his head and looked steadfastly ahead. "Many of them will want to talk to you, and several of them will be people of import and high station, so it would be prudent to be on your best behaviour."

Harry nodded.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to look a bit more welcoming as well," offered Dumbledore.

Harry scowled, but changed it into a grimace with great effort. He didn't want to be seen next to Dumbledore in the first place.

Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this as well. "Harry –" began the Headmaster with a sigh, but he was cut off as guests began trickling in, much as he'd predicted – and much to his frustration.

Harry, though, was truly on his best behaviour. This was his opportunity to mingle with the cream of Wizarding Society, and he wasn't about to blow their first true impression of him close up after they'd seen him in the Triwizard Tournament.

Much to Dumbledore's delighted surprise, he was the perfect Pureblood heir, bowing and kissing knuckles, making jokes and charming the guests in general.

Harry, too was quite interested, and truth be told excited to meet more of his contemporaries – so far, his taste of Pureblood and Magical families were limited to the Blacks, Malfoys and Weasleys. Not a very overwhelmingly pleasant beginning.

Speaking of Malfoys, much to his pleasure, there was no sign of the family. It seemed dear old Lucy was too ill to attend, something that gave Harry infinite happiness. He was a bit sad that he couldn't see Narcissa, though – whatever people said about the Malfoys, the current Malfoy matriarch was quite easy on the eyes, even to Harry.

To put it simply, she was the epitome of MILF in his eyes. It was a shame she had to be married to..._that_.

What surprised him most, though, was that some people had come bearing gifts. He'd been shocked and even tried to refuse at first, until Dumbledore had sidled up to him and explained.

"You gave Hogwarts and Britain a victory at the Tournament, Harry," he said, "it is to be expected. They merely want to thank you for bringing their country and alma mater honour."

He'd had no choice but to accept after that, and soon, he was being loaded by everything including Galleons to odd instruments. Some of them, though, were truly fascinating, and he honestly vowed to the families that he'd write back to them as soon as he'd tinkered with them.

He was continuously surprised, though, by the amount of sway he seemed to hold amongst these people. Even Cornelius Fudge, who'd turned up, had given Harry a respectful nod and a handshake for the sake of appearances. Though some of the lesser families passed him by, or hadn't come at all (like the Weasleys), a fair number of people seemed to be eager to meet him, from old Augusta Longbottom, to Mrs. Paola Zabini, who gave him an _intimate_ hug and a lilting grin, much to his horror.

He understood. _Tonight, it was his night_,he thought with a grin, straightening his jet black dress robes, which were rather dashing, if he said so himself.

_Though it should have been shared,_ he thought, his smile vanishing, and his heart sinking. He'd been so wrapped up with himself that he'd completely forgotten about Cedric, who had deserved to be here just as much.

Harry felt sick with himself. Excusing himself from the old wizard who kept telling him how 'He'd done a magnificent job of defeating the ruddy Frenchies!', he walked out of the Great Hall towards the Grand Staircase, and sat down on the first step with his head in his hands.

Two more figures came and sat on either side of him suddenly.

"It's not easy, is it?" asked a grave voice next to him, and he looked up to see both the Diggorys next to him.

"No, it isn't," he said, "it isn't."

Amos gave him a sad smile. "We're sorry that you weren't able to come for the funeral," he said, "Albus stated that it was imperative that you remain hidden from all possible forces."

Anger passed over Harry's face, and he said, "I would have wanted to be there. Dumbledore never asked me if I wanted to go."

"I know," said Mrs. Diggory to his right, "and we wanted you to be there too. You brought his body back. You will never know how much it means to us."

He nodded his head, trying not to let the tears leak out of his eyes. To his surprise, a pair of arms encircled him and pulled him close, and he found himself being pulled into Mrs. Diggory's arms.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked tentatively. "It's just – I see so much of you in him..."

How could he say no to that?

"I don't," he murmured, "I could do with some hugs too." He added with a weak grin.

"Cedric was like that," she said sadly, "he always believed that a hug could make things better, and right he was too."

"He was a great wizard," said Harry with conviction, "he was a great wizard, and he was taken before our time."

"We saw," said Amos solemnly, and Harry looked up. "Yes, your memory has made rounds in the proper circle. Believe me when I say the right people were impressed. You'll notice more than one person has given you books today, and what better reason than to help you prepare to fight the Dark Lord?"

"People will look up to you, Harry," said Mrs. Diggory, "they already do. What you did that night...I have no words for it. It was beyond brave."

"I ran from him," said Harry softly.

"No," said Amos with conviction. "You retreated, and lived to fight another day. You succeeded where hundreds of older and wiser wizards have failed!" Mrs. Diggory nodded her agreement as well.

"Now..." continued Amos, a sudden blush on his cheeks, "we may not be as rich, or as influential as the other families with their gifts, but...what I mean to say is..."

"What he means to say is," said Mrs. Diggory with a small smile, "that we're old people now. We have no family left except for each other. When we pass on, whatever we have, we'd like for you to accept it as your own."

"What?!" exclaimed Harry, shocked beyond belief. The mother of the boy who he had as good as killed was offering him their inheritance. "But I let Cedric die, I killed him!" he said in panic, his heart sinking.

He was stunned when a pair of deceptively strong arms grabbed him around the shoulder, and he found himself whirled around to face a pair of bright brown eyes. "Don't you dare think that!" Mrs. Diggory almost shouted. "Don't you _ever_ think that! Have you been blaming yourself all this time?"

At a loss for words, all he could do was nod.

"Oh you poor dear," she said, and he suddenly found himself being crushed in a stifling hug that rivalled Mrs. Weasley's, "you aren't to blame! It is not your fault, you hear me!"

He nodded weakly, but she was not convinced. "Don't you nod at me like that, young man!" she said, "I may not be your mother, but I'll take you to task and give you a firm dozen over my knee if you lie like that, even to yourself!"

He nodded again, trying to put in more effort into it.

"Young men," she said sadly, "they think they're such good liars. It'll be some time before you stop blaming yourself. What if we hadn't discouraged him to take part in this godforsaken Tournament? Isn't it our fault then?"

He opened his mouth to protest vehemently, but stopped short when he found her smiling. "You see now? It's not your fault."

For the first time in many years, Harry Potter was struck by the fact that he had no parents. He wondered, would Lily Potter have talked to him in the same way, soothed his fears, told him that he wasn't to blame?

He looked at the kind, worn face of Mrs. Diggory, and understood. He had lost a mother and father fifteen years ago, and they had just lost a son, their last family.

Just like him.

"Now, you'll agree to what we say, Mr. Potter," she said sternly, "our wills have been changed, and that is final. I may spank you still if you disagree."

It took a bit more coaxing and thinking, but in the end, he agreed. The smile on their faces was worth it, even though he would never be fully comfortable with the idea.

"And dear?" asked Mrs. Diggory finally, "would it be too much..." she hesitated slightly, and Harry glanced at her questioningly.

"Would it be too much for us to ask you to write to us sometimes?" she asked, and then hastened to add, "not every day, just once in a while! I know you'll be busy and all with OWLs and whatnot, but surely you could take some time to send us a letter or two?"

There was a long moment of silence, and then uncertainty glimmered in her eyes. "I'd be honoured to," croaked Harry finally, and it was worth it to see both of them smile through their tears.

"Now see what you've done there," Mrs. Diggory complained, "you've ruined my makeup."

"You look perfect, Mrs. Diggory," Harry hastened to assure her.

"That's enough of your cheekiness right there," she said with a tiny smile, "off with you now, you young scamp, there is work to be done yet! And that's Cynthia to you!"

"Aye aye, madam!" he said, standing up with a grin.

Though Harry left the couple with a wetter face, he also left with a much lighter heart.

And besides, a bit of magic could always fix a blotchy face.

* * *

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, now that we are well fed and watered, I present to you once more, the Champion of the Triwizard Tournament –"

"Harry James Potter!" Harry stood swiftly from his position next to Fleur at the top table, who was an attendee, much to his delight (Krum had been called away to play for the Vratva Vultures), and made his way up to the centre of the aisle as thunderous applause swept through the hall.

Dumbledore waved his wand at one of the two covered plinths that had been set up, to reveal the Goblet of Fire.

Instead of its customary raging blue flames, though, the fire in the Goblet had been much depleted, and it was now reduced to a faint glow.

"I believe our young Champion will enjoy this part, since he was unaware of it. It has long since been the tradition of the winner of the Tournament to relight the Goblet for the next competition, and Mr. Potter will be doing the same tonight!"

Harry was gobsmacked, thankfully, Dumbledore came to his rescue, and told him, "Just use any lighting spell."

Dumbledore waved his hand, and the lights in the Great Hall dimmed until only the faint blue of the Goblet was left, illuminating the face of Harry Potter.

Harry understood Amos' meaning now. He took both wands out of his pocket, his and Cedric's.

"I do this, not only for myself, but for Cedric Diggory as well," he said, "for he was every bit the deserving Champion, and a true winner."

It was Dumbledore who started the clapping, and even though murmurs and whispers immediately started their way around the Hall, it gave rise to another thunderous round of applause.

It died away quickly though, and a strange anticipation filled the hall. All eyes were on him, Harry realized, on the Boy-Who-Lived.

_I couldn't just use any fire spell for this,_ he though with a grin.

Taking a moment to thank Remus to the high heavens for the only bit of wandless magic the werewolf could perform, he raised his hand. The entire hall was plunged into darkness as the Goblet went out, sensing his intentions.

Taking a deep breath, Harry concentrated on his magic, and whispered, _"Expecto Patronum."_

The entire hall 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed as his hands burst into heatless, non-lethal silver flames. Pocketing his wands quickly, he reached out for the Goblet with cupped hands.

He reached out towards the Goblet, which burst into brilliant silver flames which lit up the entire hall. A palpable wave of magic passed around the room, shocking most people, raising several eyebrows, interesting several people, and giving rise to the idea of several marriage contracts.

"The Goblet of Fire has been relit," spoke Dumbledore gravely, his voice carrying. The hall was still staring entranced at the magic the fifteen year old before them had wrought.

In fact, the photograph of Harry Potter's illuminated face as he lit the Goblet would be across newspapers all over the country and even on several international newpapers, causing much gossip and speculation about him.

But for now, the boy wizard was satisfied to take the original Triwizard Trophy for the final time from the Minister of Magic's hand, who looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Harry glanced solemnly at the Cup that had changed so much for him, and for the first time, he noticed that it had the names of prior champions etched on its surface, and it was cycling through them.

Sadly, he would be counted as the true champion since he was the last man standing, so Cedric's name would never be on the Cup.

He watched, fascinated, as the names cycled above his own temporarily unmoving and shining name.

_Harry James Potter._

He was unsurprised yet delighted to spot a _Merlin Ambrosius_ there, and even Dumbledore smiled at the look of childlike awe upon his face.

"Merlin won this?" he whispered to the Headmaster, who nodded, his eyes twinkling.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, his voice was heard by those near him, and relayed around the hall, until every person was whispering or muttering again.

But Harry paid no heed. His blood suddenly ran cold, as he saw a name flash for a second, gone so fast that he might have imagined it.

But there was no two ways about it, he was sure he wasn't being tricked.

_Rosabella Marie Carver._

He had barely time to think on it, when Fudge rudely told him, "Get on with it, then!" and indeed, the sense of anticipation had risen in the Hall once again.

Mysteries, however deep, could wait for now.

Taking in the eager faces around him, Harry couldn't help it, his face split into a wide grin. Taking a firm hold on both handles, he lifted the trophy exultantly into the air –

The lights came on all together at once, and earth shattering applause filled the hall –

And fuck Voldemort, fuck the Ministry, fuck the whole world –

He was _Harry –_ **_fucking_ **– _Potter._

* * *

**Authors Note: Well, that's that for now. I know several authors use Merlin as a kind of God figure, and place him even before the time of the Founders, but Merlin, according to Pottermore at least, went to Hogwarts. He was in Slytherin.**

**And yeah, another mystery. They sure seem to be piling up. Just one more, I promise. That's tied into this one. That's tied into the entire plot.**

**And I don't care if you found the Diggory scene mushy, I was sick of people making Amos an asshole after Cedric was killed.**

**Oh, and Polls are now closed. Harry with Ginny and Calli wins, but like I have already said, this story will not have a harem. Oh, the evil grin I have right now...but yes, **_**both**_** of them will be involved with Harry, at some point or the other, as the main interest.**

**Finally, I have mastered LINE BREAKS! It should be tough for those who're on the phone, so if the changes pose a problem, I'll shift to using the "HPHPHPHPHP" standby when I change POVs.**


	14. The Berserker and the Toad

**Disclaimer: Why bother when I don't own it?**

**Note: Thanks a lot to Teufel1987 and oOXylionOo, who have been rocks for me throughout the story. Without them, Chapter 14 and the rest of the story might never have made it up. Cheers to them!**

**Chapter 14: The Berserker and the Toad**

The morning after the Triwizard Ceremony found Harry in the trophy room, trying to find any information he could about the elusive Rosabella Carver. So far, all he'd found out about her was that she was one of the champions of the original Triwizard Tournament...and that was it.

He sighed with frustration, running his hand through his hair. Other than a plaque which had her name in the list of Champions who'd brought Hogwarts glory in the Tournament, there was no mention of her anywhere.

He found it extremely ridiculous. Every witch and wizard of note had their own set of awards in the room, so it was almost laughable that a Champion of the tournament did not have any laurels besides that one triumph – he himself had one for the Chamber of Secrets incident.

"Mr. Potter?" he turned to find Professor McGonagall, and he greeted her politely. "What might you be doing down here?"

"Oh, just wanted to see my name on the plaque," he said with a sheepish grin.

Her lips twitched, "I hope you don't get an inflated head, Mr. Potter, your father's arrogance was enough to deal with."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Professor," he said, and then asked, "Did you follow me down here?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," she said, "you were down here for quite a while, and I couldn't help but wonder what you were doing. Do you not have class in fifteen minutes?"

He grimaced, and she continued, "Judging from the expression on your face, I trust you have Potions with Severus today?"

He nodded, and she gave him one of her rare smiles. "Hang in there, Potter," she told him, "you aren't the only one who's displeased with Severus nowadays; his tenure at Hogwarts is near an end."

Having said that, she turned and walked stately up the stairs; leaving Harry standing down there open-mouthed.

* * *

"Potter!" two minutes into the first Potions class of the year, and Snape was already being his usual insufferable self towards Harry. Harry, on the other hand, had been expecting it – he suspected him throwing Snape into a wall and duelling him had gained him no brownie points with the man - and so he'd come prepared. "What would I get if I added three rat spleens, crushed mint roots, syrup of hellebore, moonstones and a dash of nightshade to essence of Wormwood?"

"I'd imagine you'd get the Draught of Moonlight, sir, a powerful antidote for insomnia," replied Harry, unusually respectful for once. "Though adding a dash of lime juice to counteract the alkali in the solution would make it easier on the tongue."

Several Sytherins gaped, while the Gryffindors blinked owlishly at his answer; the fact that Potter, with his abysmal record in Potions, could understand how different groups of plants and animals reacted with each other, along with the chemical properties of the final solution was too much for them to digest.

Snape, however, paused for a second, before his lip curled and he resumed his attack. "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for presuming to add on your own, unwanted expertise to the recipes given in your books." There were groans of protest, which died down quickly with a glare from Snape. "You would do well to know that effectiveness in Potions matters more than taste, but it seems four years of education have been wasted on you."

Glad that the class was back to normal, the Slytherins sniggered meekly for their Head of House.

Harry, his face set, exerted great self-control and only nodded in reply; but Snape wasn't done yet.

"State the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion," said Snape with a sneer, "and tell me how long it takes for the entire process, and why."

"The ingredients would be fluxweed, knotgrass, leeches, lacewing flies, boomslang skin and bicorn horn, along with any body part of the person you wanted to change into," answered Harry, "the entire process takes about a month, thanks to the fact that the lacewing flies must be stewed for twenty-one days before the Potion is made, and only fluxweed picked by the light of a full moon is acceptable."

Harry knew that he would never be a brilliant Potioneer, so he hadn't really read up much on the subject. Thankfully, his adventures during second year had enlightened him all about Polyjuice Potion, and his need for research into it was only reinforced thanks to the events of the year before.

A vein bulged in Snape's forehead, and he spat out, "Incorrect, Potter! The fluxweed should be picked on a full moon; the foolish concept of picking it in the moonlight has no effect on the fluxweed."

"But sir," said Harry innocently, "I merely quoted the book, since it would be unwise of me to add on my own expertise to the recipe given in it."

Snape snarled in reply, "Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter! Tell me the seventh and most important use of Dragon Blood!"

His interrogation continued in this fashion for some time, with both Harry and Snape growing more and more agitated. A year or two ago, Harry would have snapped and insulted, or maybe even pulled out his wand and cursed Snape; but he was only now beginning to appreciate the use of Occlumency as Calli had suggested. His magic was singing, pushing him to take out his wand and hex Snape to oblivion, and only his shields allowed him to keep his calm. Even so, his tenuous hold on them was slipping, despite his best efforts to remain cool.

It was finally when Snape asked the recipe for Veritaserum did Harry back down.

"I'm afraid I don't know, sir," he said, hate surging through him. Occlumency or no Occlumency, this man would always get under his skin.

Snape grinned maliciously, his eyes lighting up. "Tut, tut, Potter," he drawled in delight, "as dunderheaded as ever. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor!"

For a second, Harry's face contorted in rage, until Calli's face flashed in his mind. With an extreme effort, he took a deep breath and forced down his anger, concentrating on his shield.

A headache was building up again, helped on its way by the noxious fumes coming from Snape's office at one end of the room.

Black eyes met green. The challenge was clear.

_I dare you, Potter._

Harry narrowed his eyes, but instead of the expected outburst, Snape was a bit unnerved to see a smirk grow on his face.

"Of course, you're right, Sir," said Harry smoothly, "but if you could tell me the recipe, I wouldn't make the same mistake again."

At that instant, Snape knew that he was well and truly cornered. The recipe and procedure for making Veritaserum was so complex that he'd only made small vial-fulls of the stuff for himself, that too by painstakingly following every step of the way from a book.

Potter, it seemed, was well aware of the fact that this potion was near-alchemical in its difficulty to make.

Knowing he had no other choice, Snape went on the defensive. Which, of course, involved attacking Harry.

"Five points for presuming you could even comprehend the recipe, Potter!" spat Snape, "it is much above the level of even a Hogwarts graduate!"

There was a split second of silence as the entire class processed what Snape had just said. The greasy haired Potions Masters' eyes widened for a second before he slammed his mouth shut, knowing that he'd been manipulated masterfully.

"Then why would you ask me such a question, Professor?" asked Harry innocently, though his eyes suggested anything but.

Silence again. The Gryffindors looked delighted, while the Slytherins looked like they'd been forced to swallow a sour lemon. In fact, some of them even looked doubtfully at their own Head of House.

"Enough!" spat Snape, "get on with your work." Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he continued, "You shall be working in pairs this year, because I am quite sure that you dunderheads," he glared at Neville, who shrunk into himself, "will mess up if you are to make Potions of this level alone. You shall be paired in alphabetical order, so select a workstation with your partner now!"

"Pair up now," he ordered, and there was a bit of nervous shuffling around until Snape roared, "Order! I have never dealt with a group of students so asinine that they cannot arrange themselves in order of their names!"

Taking out his register, he began calling out names in pair, resulting in a lot of hilarious reactions, most noticeably when Seamus got paired with Goyle, Hermione with Daphne Greengrass, and Parvati with Pansy.

Harry leaned forward after Parvati's name was called, "Harry Potter," said Snape, his lip curling. "Seeing as there are nineteen people in this class, and Mr. Potter has demonstrated his extensive knowledge of Potions, I trust he will have no difficulties working alone for the rest of the year?"

The Slytherins snorted, but Harry paid no heed. He gathered his things, not glancing at Snape lest he fall apart and attack the man, and he didn't even laugh at the look on Ron's face when he was paired with Zabini.

Something was irking him in one corner of his mind, a doubt which was niggling at his brain.

He got started on his Potion, bringing up the heat before he started chopping his valerian roots.

He still couldn't figure out what was bothering him so, not until he saw Hermione bent over her Potion, muttering something to her blond partner.

Only then did he remember another, slightly taller girl with dirty blonde hair and pigtails, who'd gotten sorted before him in his first year. He was so nervous that he'd barely noticed it was his turn until the whispering broke out.

"Professor?" he asked Snape, "where's Sally-Anne?"

The Professor, who was hovering over him like the overgrown bat he was, looked incredulous. "Who?"

"Sally- Anne Perks, the Slytherin," he asked, wondering why Snape was so keen on playing dumb.

"Potter, what do you think you are playing at?! Five points from Gryffindor for this ridiculous prank, and I suggest you check the Potions fumes you have been inhaling!"

"But she was sorted before me my first year," Harry protested, "she should be my partner for the year!"

There was a moment of silence, where all the students had stopped working, and were staring at Harry and Snape in silence.

"This has gone on too far, Potter!" snarled Snape, "thirty points from Gryffindor for your foolish prank! Now, unless you have any more figments of your imagination to share with us, I suggest you go back to your work. _That mess,_" he said, pointing to Harry's potion, "is no longer acceptable. _Evanesco!_"

"Harry?" asked Parvati tentatively from next to him, ignoring the sniggering Pansy, "are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah – yeah, I'm fine," assured Harry a bit hurriedly, "had a bit too much to drink in celebration last night, I think," he told her with a grin, and she giggled.

"So, Harry," she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, "I was wondering..."

He looked up absently, from his nightshade, and looked at her questioningly, "Hmmm?" His mind was racing a mile a minute, and he couldn't shake of the feeling that there was something more to this mystery than met the eye, some deeper connection between the two disappearing students.

So it was with half a ear that he listened to whatever Parvati was telling him, something about 'time' and 'do it again?'

"That's right," he said absently, trying to gather whatever knowledge he had of Rosabella and Sally-Anne in his mind, "you'll have to wait fifteen minutes before you set the cauldron on the fire again after adding the Wormwood."

Pansy couldn't help it, she let out a shriek of laughter and Harry looked up in earnest this time. Parvati was glaring at him, looking affronted.

"Is everything ok?" he asked anxiously. "I think I told you the correct method, but I can't guarantee perfection, I wasn't really paying attention."

"I can see that," said Parvati frostily, before turning her glare on the pug-faced Slytherin next to her, who was finding the entire thing highly funny. "Maybe some other time, Harry."

He went back to his Potion, not even bothering to try and work out the mystery that was a woman.

The only connection he could find between the two girls was that both of their first names consisted of two names put together, and that wasn't much of a connection to begin with.

_Could I have been placed under a spell?_ He wondered, his eyes widening. Were those two girls just figments of his imagination? Merlin knew he'd been through enough horror in his life to conjure up a person or two in his mind...

He shook his head. No, Angelina had definitely known about Rosabella, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had told him that the girl would be trying out for the Keeper's spot on the team this year.

The only other solution his mind could offer was too ridiculous to even consider. If he wasn't the one under a spell, then the person who had kidnapped the two of them must have placed the entire school under a spell.

There was no witch or wizard capable of controlling that amount of magic in the castle except for the Headmaster himself.

His eyes narrowed. Could this be one of the Headmaster's newfangled plots to test and see how far Harry had come on his journey as the weapon against Voldemort?

He shook himself awake just in time to take the Potion off the fire before the Wormwood could absorb too much heat. Even though he had to begin his potion again, he'd pulled ahead of the others, having made the Bone-Healer potion himself under Lupin's tutelage before.

Dumbledore wouldn't kidnap other students just to create a mystery to test Harry's capabilities, would he? But then again, this was the man who'd allowed Ginny to be put in danger, who'd allowed him to live a life of abuse at Number Four, Privet Drive...

A loud explosion tore him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to find Ron and Zabini stirring weakly on the floor.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, "I suppose you didn't take the Potion off the fire quick enough, Weasley! Fifty points from Gryffindor, and a week's detention for putting another student in the way of harm!"

Shouts of protest rang out from the Lions, but Snape paid them no heed. "Potter!" he spat, "take them to the hospital wing! You're done for this lesson too!"

"My potion isn't complete, Sir," he offered, and indeed, it required just five more minutes of simmering before he had to add the aconite and stir seven times.

"Five points from Gryffindor for thinking to refute a teacher, Potter! I'm quite sure that you have concocted one mess or the other, and I have no desire to mark you on it! _Evane-"_

Harry's wand was out, and a Shield Charm cast before Snape could finish the spell. "I don't think so, Professor," he said, "I will finish this potion in four minutes, and then I will gladly take them to the Hospital Wing."

"Potter! You dare ignore me!"

"Please, Professor," piped up Hermione, looking between the two of them in panic; the hatred between them was legendary. "I'm finished here, I'll take them to Madam Pomfrey."

"Stay where you are, you foolish girl!" he snarled, before turning to Harry. "Now, Potter –"

"_Professor Snape!_" came a voice from the door, and everybody turned away from the ongoing drama to see an irate Professor McGonagall standing at the back of the class. "What is the meaning of this? Put away your wand at once! Need I remind you that you are on probation, and attacking a student won't help your case?"

The silence that followed was so thick that Harry was sure he could cut into it if he just took his silver knife out from his Potions kit.

"Minerva," said Snape, forcing himself to be pleasant, "Potter here –"

"I was here long enough to see what happened, Severus. I had come here looking for a word with Ms. Granger since I knew she had class in the dungeons, but I am appalled at what I found!" said McGonagall. "Potter, when you are done with your Potion, you are free to take the two of them to the Hospital Wing. Severus, you will come with me to the Headmaster at once!"

"I hardly think that will be necess –"

"You will come along, before I fire you at once, man!" said McGonagall, and Harry felt a rush of affection towards her. "And you know very well that you cannot hand out punishments or take points when you are on probation!"

The silence only seemed to deepen, before it was broken by a strange sound. Seamus stuffed a fist into his mouth, and Dean gave a weird snort before following his example.

"Minerva, I will not have you entering my class and undermining my authority," said Snape, looking livid.

"Severus," said McGonagall extremely coldly, "you can either follow me to Dumbledore, or you can go to your office and start packing your things."

Snape paused for a second, drawing himself up to full height. He met McGonagall's stare for a long, long moment, before he turned and swept towards his office.

He was followed there by shocked gasps from his own students, and cheers from the Lions; even Hermione cracked a tiny smile.

The bell rung, but nobody made any effort to move. Ron had just started coming around, and he looked up groggily and asked, "Whazgoingon?"

"Snape's getting the sack, mate," said Seamus bluntly, never one for subtlety.

Ron's eyes widened almost comically, before his face fell and he asked, "This is a dream, isn't it?"

"I assure you it is not, Mr. Weasley," said Snape silkily, coming up from behind and making Ron jump.

"Professor, you cannot be leaving!" protested Draco in horror, "my father will not allow it!"

"You will find, Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall imperiously, "that the joint decision of the staff and the Deputy Headmistress can overthrow the decision of the Board as well as the Headmaster. Severus' presence is no longer welcomed at Hogwarts, an event which has been long in coming."

"Well, Slytherin will most certainly not stand for this!" retorted the blonde pompously. "We'll see you back yet, Professor." He told Snape, who gave the slightest of smirks and an approving nod.

"I look forward to seeing you try, Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall shortly, "I would also like to take this opportunity to remind you that _no_ student at Hogwarts is indispensable."

Draco looked like he'd been slapped across the face and made to swallow a particularly sour lemon.

"Well," said McGonagall, turning to Snape and tilting her head, "I trust you are ready to leave?"

Snape nodded, following her out of the room in silence, but not before throwing Harry a look of the deepest loathing.

Harry, feeling hugely victorious, merely winked and gave him a grin.

This had to be the greatest Potions class _ever_.

* * *

Word travelled around the castle like wildfire. Within fifteen minutes, the entire castle knew what had happened. Lunch was an exciting affair, with every student in the castle waiting for the verdict, and the teachers bar three seated stiffly at the Head Table.

Snape was still holed up in the Headmaster's room with McGonagall, and the teacher's were expecting their summons any time now. Looking up at the Head Table, Harry could see that most teachers were rather glad to see the Potions Master leave, with two major exceptions –

Flitwick remained neutral, though Harry was sure he would go along with the majority if they leaned that way; the jovial Professor wouldn't want any antagonistic relationships with any of his colleagues.

The other was...Umbridge. The woman was a wildcard, and there was no way to know which way she'd vote. She had no reason to vote for Snape's firing, in fact, the man was notorious for his ill treatment of Harry, and Harry was sure that she'd take every opportunity to see this treatment continued.

"Caught on, have you?" said a voice behind him, and he found turned to see the Weasley twins grinning down at him. "Walk with us, Harry."

He complied, recognizing the look in their eyes. "Closer, Harry," said George.

"Yes, that's it, lean in and make it look like we're plotting something nefarious," said Fred with a smirk.

Harry threw them an incredulous look, but complied at their insistent stared. They guided him towards the Head Table, towards the Trophy Room, in fact, where he had been only this morning.

"As you have no doubt realized, the Toad may just side with the Bat to make life hell for us innocent students," said George, and Harry snorted at the application of the word 'innocent' in conjunction with the twins.

Fred put on a mock-affronted look, but continued, "Which is why we put our heads together and came up with a brilliant plan."

"Which is?" asked Harry, as they walked past the table – he noticed Umbridge glaring at them – and entered the Trophy Room, heads still together.

"Misdirection and lies, Harry," said George with a grin, "misdirection and lies. Just play along."

Harry noticed that they'd conveniently left the door ajar, and wondered at it.

They sat there amongst the trophies, Harry inspecting the one with Rosabella's name on it again, all the while wondering what the hell the twins were up to.

They heard a creak as the door opened and the shaft of light coming in through the door widened. A shadow cast itself on the opposite wall, and suddenly Fred began to talk loudly.

"It's obvious Dumbledore won't let Snape go," he said, as if explaining something to a five year old. "Snape's Dumbledore's lapdog, everybody knows that."

"Y'know, Harry," George said seriously, though his eyes were shining with mirth, "if I didn't know better, I'd say that the two of them were even planning something together."

Harry caught on, his eyes widening, before he grinned at the sheer brilliance of the plan that the Twins had cooked up.

"But the Headmaster's decision won't matter in the end, will it?" asked Harry, joining in on the act. "If the entire staff band together and ask for Snape's removal, he'll have no choice but to let him go. Even the board can't do anything!"

"Is that so?" said Fred, winking at Harry. "But why would Umbridge want Snape gone? She's new, and has nothing against him, from what I see."

"Freddie," replied George ruefully, "Umbridge may be new, but she's smart," the shadow at the door shifted, and George mimed vomiting before he continued. "Dumbledore's stronghold is Hogwarts, he has the faith of all the students of every house, except –"

"Slytherin," said Harry, marvelling at the sheer brilliance of the Twins, "and that's where Snape comes in. The Snakes will do whatever Snape asks them," he said, and Fred made a noise of comprehension. "And as long as Snape's under Dumbledore –"

"The Slytherins are under Dumbledore," said George, "and Hogwarts can present a united front against the Ministry's attempts at change"

The door shut ever so quietly, and Harry grinned widely, it seemed Umbridge had heard enough.

"Think she took the bait?" he whispered, and the Twins grinned.

"Knowing the incompetence of the Ministry," said Fred, "she fell for it Hook –"

"Line –" said George.

"And sinker," finished Harry, his own grin threatening to split his face open. "Brilliant, guys!"

"We aim to please," they replied with a joint bow. "The least we could do for our illustrious inventor! And now, we must go visit our brother in the Hospital Wing."

Harry was suddenly reminded of his other obligations as they made their way back up and out. "Do you think Ron'll make it to practice today?"

"I think he will," said Fred, rubbing his chin.

"Though I don't think he'll make much of a difference," said George sadly. "Our brother, who we may add, may not really be our brother –"

"Investigation into this matter is still ongoing, and until that time, we are reluctant to acknowledge him as family –"

"Or until he saves a goal at practice –"

"Is quite pathetic, really..." trailed off Fred, and Harry shook his head in confusion.

"I think it's just nerves," offered Harry doubtfully, Ron was never one for acting under pressure. "Maybe if he loosened up a bit, it'd help?"

"You have far too much faith in people, Harry," piped up another voice next to him, and he grinned at Ginny. "I saw him at tryouts; I could've done better on a toy broomstick."

"Mighty high opinion you got of yourself there, Weasley," said Harry dryly, and Ginny just flicked her hair at him.

"You will find, Potter, that it is an opinion well deserved," she said in a snooty voice, "and before I forget, when's your first class with Flitwick?"

"This afternoon, two hours after lunch," said Harry, he was quite looking forward to it. "You?" He was quite amazed at how normally she was behaving around him; he was expecting at least a minor reaction from her.

Their eyes met, and Harry instantly knew that she'd not forgotten. "Sunday," she said lightly, "but I'm having a bit of trouble with the Flame Whip charm, have you mastered it yet?"

At his nod, she brightened visibly. "Great, then you can help me with it! Come along now!"

"Er, I was actually going to the Hospital Wing –"

"Whatever for, Ron's still being a prat, isn't he?" Before he could protest, she'd pulled him away, and Fred and George waved at him with mournful expressions on their face, saying how they'd never see Harry again.

Harry and Ginny gave them the joint finger.

* * *

"So," said Ginny, looking out over the grounds. "So."

"So?" asked Harry testily. Did this confrontation_ have_ to be back in the Astronomy Tower?

"Would you, by any chance, happen to know a Sally-Anne Perks or a Rosabella Marie Carver?" he asked hopefully before she had a chance to begin her tirade.

"No," she said, looking puzzled. "Should I?"

"That would depend," he replied evasively. "Now, you were saying?"

"Yeah, about your summer," said Ginny, perking up.

He held up his hand before she could continue. "Gin, I don't think I really need to hear a lecture right now," he said.

She looked at him as though he'd gone off his rocker. "Why would I lecture you?" she asked incredulously. "I don't care if you shagged a horse cross-eyed during the holidays! All I care about –"

"Wait, what?" asked Harry, amused. "Why would I shag a horse?"

"Why wouldn't you?" she retorted. "You've done stranger things. Now, as I was saying, do you think I could undergo your training as well?"

He looked at him, startled. He gazed upon her for a moment, and he was surprised to see that he had the mildest urge to reach out for her and...

He shook his head, pushing such thoughts away rapidly. "I – I don't think so," he said, and her face fell. He hadn't given her all the details of his training, so he said, "Calli did something to me, but she said that only extremely powerful wizards, and those with extreme mental fortitude could do it. Apparently, others have tried to do it, and died."

"Others have tried?" asked Ginny, interested.

"They have, through different means," replied Harry, "but Calli says that the only other person who managed it successfully underwent it the same way."

"Who?" she asked, mystified.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "Er, Merlin," he said with a sheepish grin, and she gasped.

"Of course, that would make sense, wouldn't it?" the redhead muttered to herself as she paced atop the wooden floor. "So," she said in interest, "you're magically stronger now?"

He shook his head, and she appeared even more puzzled now. "What do you mean?" she asked, "you said it yourself, you felt more powerful!"

"I _am_ more powerful than before," said Harry, "it's just that I can _connect_ with magic better, if you can understand."

Judging by her expression, she didn't. "Try meditating sometime," he offered, "really, really meditate. You'll be able to sense the magic within you, around you; you'll understand what I'm talking about then."

"So the training basically did jack except help you connect with your magic?" she asked, frowning. "That doesn't sound to exciting..." she trailed off, looking doubtful.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Harry said lightly, and she bristled immediately.

"Oh, that's fine!" she huffed, "don't tell little Ginny Weasley, because she won't understand! She's the baby of the family! I'm sick of people treating me like a china princess!"

Harry was amused at her tantrum. "I don't think _anyone_ could understand what I'm going through. Your magical strength can't increase, Ginny," he tried to explain, "you can boost it for certain periods of time, you can call upon it better, but your base power remains the same; how else would you explain Squibs? I just got lucky that I'm powerful," he finished with a grin.

She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "And you_ are _still little, you know?" he added with a teasing grin.

"I stopped being little when I was 11, Harry," she replied coldly, and Harry shut up rapidly.

There was an awkward silence for a long time after that.

Ginny was the one who finally broke it, "So, who are Sally-Anne and Rosabella, and why should I know them?" she asked him.

Harry hestitated, and she rolled her eyes. "Harry, I swear I'll cut your bollocks off if you lie to me or avoid the question," she insisted, "I think I've been a friend to you long enough that you involve me in one of your crazy adventures."

"I'd like to see you try," he retorted, grinning.

She pulled her wand out, and fingered it lightly. "I was lying about not mastering the Flame Whip Charm, you know, Potter?" she said idly, "I could chop off _and_ cauterize your balls."

"Language, language, Weasley," tutted Harry with a grin, he could always depend on Ginny for a laugh. "What would your mother say?"

Ginny looked thoughtful. "You know, that _is_ a point. She'd be quite upset if she lost your bollocks..." she sat up with a grin, "especially since she has this idea that the two of us will end up married and with a Quidditch team full of children."

Harry spluttered, and Ginny giggled as he looked at her with wide eyes. "Are you serious?" he asked in horror.

She laughed out loud at his expression, and nodded, "Why else do you think she tries to mother you so much? I tell you, she's trying to condition you into calling her 'Mum' just as practice. Of course," she said, flashing him a bright smile, "she could be completely wrong, and you'd end up as Ron's bride..."

"Only in your wet dreams, Weasley," snorted Harry.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "My sweet dreams wouldn't involve my brother," she protested, "though I can vouch for the fact that every girl in the castle, myself included, has dreamt about you and Malfoy getting down and dirty at some point or the other."

Harry looked like he'd stepped in on Umbridge taking a bath, "You're kidding, right?" he asked, feeling mildly ill.

"Would I lie about this?" she asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Yes, you would," replied Harry fervently.

"I'm wounded, Potter," said Ginny, clutching her heart good-naturedly, "I am, after all, Molly Weasley's innocent babe."

"According to Fred and George, you haven't been innocent since you were six," said Harry.

"They're just sore because that's when I started stealing their socks," she replied without missing a beat. "Would you rather I wear my boy-who-lived ones?"

"I knew that fangirl would emerge sometime again!" Harry crowed with laughter, and doubled over as Ginny punched him in the stomach.

"I am _not_ a fangirl, Potter!" she protested angrily.

"His eyes are as green as fresh pickled –OWW! That hurt!" he rubbed his arm where she'd hit him with an extremely powerful Stinging Hex. "Watch your hexes, that could have taken my arm off!"

She hadn't replied, though; instead, she chose to walk up to the edge of the tower and lean against the railing, looking out again.

After an intermittent period, she turned around and leaned on the railing, staring at him with an inexplicable expression on her face.

"What?" he asked, feeling a bit nervous.

She hestitated. "D – do you ever get the feeling that you're being controlled?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about, Ginny?"

"I – I don't know how to explain it," she said, and Harry grimaced at the irony, he'd been the one saying the same thing only minutes ago.

"I think I can understand," said Harry, "and yes, I know I was being controlled. Dumbledore, remember? I spent months trying to get out of his control, and I'm pretty damn sure that I'm pretty much free of his influences now."

She shook her head, her flaming red hair flying about. "Not that," she said, sounding frustrated, "like someone is controlling how you feel, how you think?"

Harry sat up straight, "Are you talking about the diary?" he asked, panic rising within him.

She shook her head again, "No, forget it, Harry," she said, "I'm probably just having a bad day."

Harry wanted to protest, but he caught the look in her eye, and remained silent obediently.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"No problem," he said smoothly, getting up and dusting himself off. He was quite pleased that the topic of the missing students had been avoided somehow, as Ginny looked to be deep in thought.

"I'm going to head down now," he said, "see if Snape's been kicked out yet."

She smiled a little at that, but her eyes were still distant. "You go on," she said, "I think I'll stay up here for a bit."

"You'll be okay?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I just need some time alone."

He could respect that sentiment, having experienced it himself. He was about to descend the staircase when she called to him –

"Harry, wait!" he turned, and found her staring at him with that inexplicable expression again. It looked...anxious, almost.

"Yeah?"

"There's a storm coming, Harry..." she said, her face shadowed. She looked out over the horizon, and continued. "I don't know how to say it. Dad always said that there was a bit of Seer blood in the family; but something big is around the corner. And I don't think it's a good thing," she finished, looking at him with searching eyes.

He left the tower with his head even messed up than before.

* * *

"You can't be serious!" hissed Snape angrily, "after all I've done, you're kicking me out of the castle?"

"My hands are tied, Severus, and this is for the greater good. We need you outside in the field again!"

"I'm a spy! What will I tell the Dark Lord when he asks why I am no longer a part of the Staff?"

"You will say, as we have rehearsed, that the Order has you working full time as a spy now, so you can be around the Dark Lord and know his secrets better, especially since he is weaker now."

Snape stared in disdain at the aged person sitting heavily before him. "My loyalty to the Light is starting to wear thin again," he said, his lips thinning, "one day, I might just find that the Dark Side has more to offer me."

"You know as well as I do that you will never join the Dark side again, Severus," was the weary reply, "but I need you and your considerable tracking skills immensely now."

Snape showed no emotion, but he tilted his head in reluctant acceptance anyway.

"My sources indicate that Harry somehow found himself in the company of a Succubus this summer, Severus," and even Snape looked shocked for a second.

"Yes, that was my reaction as well. I need you to find her, at any cost; we cannot have Harry escaping from our grasp thanks to some foreign influence. His path is set, despite what he thinks, and he cannot stray from it now."

"Very well," said Snape, "mail me all relevant information at Spinner's End, I don't want to stay here a second longer than necessary."

"Don't fret, Severus," came the calm reply, "I daresay you won't be lonely for long. Dolores is after the Head position, and I fear I cannot hold her off for too long."

Snape snorted at the understatement.

* * *

Harry walked down the fifth floor corridor under his cloak, making sure not to make any noise. Reaching the Hospital Wing, he slowly pushed the door open, and looked inside.

The room was empty. Feeling relieved, he snuck inside quickly, shutting the door behind him. He paused for a second, and when there was no sign of Madam Pomfrey, he cast a Silencing Charm, and rushed over to the cupboards.

Rifling through them, he was frustrated to find only Potions and other paraphernalia, but no sign of any medical records, like he'd hoped.

He came to the conclusion that no files were stored in the Hospital Wing, which left –

He turned towards Madam Pomfrey's office, and gulped slightly. A plan formed in his mind, and he quietly reached into one of the cupboards and picked up a Potion which he was intimately familiar with, the Dreamless Sleep potion.

Tiptoeing over to her office door, he cracked it open a smidgen. She was sitting on her chair, engrossed in the Daily Prophet. Feeling intensely guilty for what he was about to do, he stepped slightly to the side, and pointed his wand at the beds, thinking, _'Confringo!'_

Madam Pomfrey shrieked and nearly fell from her chair at the resulting explosion, and she grabbed her wand and dashed past him, leaving the door wide open.

Ignoring her screams of horror, he rushed over to the cup of tea she had on the table, and poured a bit of the Potion into it, enough to keep her asleep for an hour or so. He knew from experience that the Potion was tasteless, so she wouldn't notice the addition.

He was back out of the door and waiting in a matter of seconds, watching with a mix of amusement and guilt as she repaired everything with a wide wave of her wand, raging and ranting at Peeves.

The poltergeist would no doubt thank Harry for creating havoc in his name if he ever got wind of what had happened, Harry thought with a grin, as he waited patiently in his corner.

His efforts were rewarded fifteen minutes later, by which time an angry Pomfrey had returned to her office and sought for solace in her cup of tea.

When the sound of light snoring reached his ears, he crept into the office. Pulling off his cloak, he opened the cupboard directly above her head, and was immediately rewarded by a neat column of files.

After searching through them for some time, Harry realized that it was foolish of him to search for them the Muggle way. Pulling his wand, he summoned both Sally-Anne and Rosabella's files to himself, but was crestfallen when his spell had no effect.

He tried again, summoning Ron's file to see if maybe Pomfrey had put some charms on the files to prevent them from being summoned, or if the files he was searching for had really been removed.

However, no sooner had he flicked his wand and thought the spell did the file bearing Ron's name come flying out. Banishing it back, Harry felt his puzzlement grow. Either Sally-Anne and Rosabella had never been to the Hospital Wing, which was unheard of for a Hogwarts student, or their files had been removed.

On a whim, he raised his wand again.

'_Accio Harry Potter's medical file'_ yielded no result as well.

Harry felt the shadows around him grow, and he wasn't reassured by the notion at all.

* * *

"Sirius?" asked Remus, waving his hand before his friend's face, "Sirius?"

The Black patriarch was clearly hammered, Remus decided, as he saw his friend's face, and hollow expression. It looked like Sirius had another of his Azkaban episodes, and had gone on a drinking spree to drown his memories.

"Are you all right?" No answer, only a blank stare. Only days ago, Sirius had been his old youthful and charming self, he'd even vowed to get ahold of his life; he'd even started his planning to that end. And now...now, he was drifting back to his old state again.

Sometimes, Remus wondered whether the only reason Sirius was still alive was Harry. He grimaced at the thought of his young friend.

If Sirius returned back to the state he'd been in when Harry had rescued him from the Dementors, Harry would be crushed. Sirius, along with Remus, was one of the only adults who Harry could trust and lean upon in this world.

If Sirius failed in his role as Harry's guardian, only he, Remus, would be the remaining rock for the young wizard.

Remus shivered.

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but cheer slightly along with the other students when Professor Snape walked out the gates of Hogwarts, his ever-present sneer still marring his face.

Even though both she and Snape were on the same side in the war, she could never bring herself to like that man.

Speaking of which, where was Harry? She'd searched for her old friend, but he was nowhere to be found. Of all the people at the school, she'd thought that Harry would have enjoyed seeing his least favourite teacher leave the school...

* * *

The young wizard in question was currently sitting alone in the Room of Requirement, concentrating on his Occlumency shields.

Harry didn't know when, he didn't know how, but somehow, he suddenly found that he no longer loved the castle like he once did. He'd been through too much here, and even now, it was looking like he was caught up in the web of something new.

The faces of both the missing girls flashed before his eyes, one of them clear, and the other only a pale memory. He sighed, cradling his head in his hand.

Despite his conversation with Ginny, he couldn't help but feel that his life was spiralling out of control again.

And her words had struck a deep chord within him.

_There's a storm coming, Harry..._He couldn't help but agree. There was a mystery afoot, and he had a feeling he wouldn't like it when it finally solved itself.

And there was always that _blasted_ niggling headache at the back of his mind!

* * *

Despite everything that was going on, Harry couldn't help but feel elated as he walked to Flitwick's office for his first lesson. Snape was gone, and there was talk that a new Potions master had already been contacted to take over the job. He would have liked to see the bat leave the castle for good, but one couldn't have everything in life. His need to control his Occlumency had been far greater.

He mused, though, as he walked to Flitwick's office, that he may just have found a reliable adult in Minerva McGonagall.

So it was with fond thoughts of her in his head, and a smile on his lips, that Harry knocked on Flitwick's door.

"Ah, Harry!" squeaked the tiny Professor, "come in, come in! How are you this fine afternoon?"

"I'm good, Professor, and you?"

"Brilliant, brilliant!" beamed the Professor, "now, let us get to our lesson at once, I can hardly wait!"

"Likewise, Professor," said Harry with a grin, and Flitwick's smile widened. The Charms teacher led him over to his desk, where a curious basin like object was floating a few inches off the wooden surface.

"I don't know if you're familiar with it, but this is a –"

"A Pensieve," supplied Harry, pleasing Flitwick to know end, "yes, I'm acquainted with them, Professor. What do you plan on doing with them?"

"Today," said Flitwick, "we shall be working on your duelling," and Harry straightened in anticipation. "But before we begin, we must select a style that you find appealing, and then modify it to create your own style."

Harry was intrigued. "Is that what the memories are for, then?" he asked, and Flitwick nodded. "They're the collection of some of the better duellists I've seen in action, each with a style of their own. For your own benefit, some of them are quite familiar to you –"

Harry's eyes lit up as he noticed two vials on them immediately, one labelled Lily Potter, and the other 'James Potter and Sirius Black'.

He pouted, though, when Flitwick chuckled and said, "I think we'll be saving those for last," he said, "lest you get distracted. Now, moving on to the first memory," he lifted one.

"Albus Dumbledore," Harry read off the label, his eyes widening. Flitwick poured the memory into the basin, and Harry touched his face to the surface –

He landed in the middle of a war-torn city, and ducked out of the way by reflex when a huge, fiery phoenix dived out of nowhere. It took him a few seconds to remember that he was in a memory, and he straightened, grinning sheepishly.

"Quite all right, Mr. Potter," chuckled Flitwick, "in fact, I should give you credit for your reflexes. Now," he continued, turning business-like, and motioning towards the ongoing duel, "while I couldn't procure a memory of his fight against Grindelwald, this is Albus against one of his greatest Lieutenants. You'll notice that Albus relies heavily on Transfiguration, and other, more esoteric branches of magic to duel. His style of attack has been commonly, and rather unoriginally named the Conjurer," And true to his words, Harry watched as his Headmaster, looking younger by far than Harry had seen him, conjured an enormous lion and sent it at his quarry.

Without waiting as the animal was blasted apart, he waved his wand and a huge stream of water appeared before him, which he froze and then shattered, banishing the ice spears at his opponent.

Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer power he was displaying, but he couldn't imagine himself fighting like that – the Headmaster's style was completely different from his own. While he hoped that he could one day match the Headmaster in power, he couldn't imagine relying heavily on Transfiguration.

He found himself outside in the office once the memory had played out, and he said, "I don't think that's it, Professor. While he certainly fights like a man possessed, he's too slow for my taste."

Flitwick beamed at him, "I'm unsurprised, Mr. Potter, in fact, I would be most displeased if you'd picked his style, the posture and attacking is all wrong for you. Shall we move on, then?"

And so master and student dove into the Pensieve once more, sorting through the memories of wizards and witches through the ages.

Harry felt like he couldn't connect with any of them – was it his training, he wondered, or had he already developed a style of his own. He rejected nearly everything he'd seen so far, even Flitwick's own style, citing speed, power, defense, bulk and even gender as an excuse.

Instead of growing incensed, though, Flitwick only got more and more excited, much like Ollivander when he had tested Harry for his wands.

"Right," said Flitwick, at five o' clock in the evening, "we're down to the last three now, Mr. Potter."

While Harry was excited to finally see his parents and Godfather fight, his heart sank a bit as he saw the label on the third-to-last vial.

They landed in the base of the Pensieve again, and Harry found himself in a place he recognized. The fight was at Hogsmeade, and Death Eaters were leading a riot against the Order of the Phoenix.

He realized with a jolt that he was witnessing the fall of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, as he saw two red-haired men snarling and fighting like cornered animals, taking down Death Eaters left and right.

"Move aside," came the command from behind, and the ranks parted to allow Lord Voldemort passage. Harry shivered as he beheld the snake-like face, the red eyes and the lipless, cruel smile.

Voldemort merely tilted his head at the two wizards, before he struck with the speed and ferocity of a Snake. Harry, who was used to Voldemort merely slinging around _Avada Kedavra'_s, came to a horrific realization as he saw Voldemort fight.

He was nothing more than an annoyance to Voldemort, a fly on the windshield – the Dark Lord had never taken him seriously enough to engage him in a proper duel.

Voldemort duelled – dare he say it – with all the arrogance of a true Lord. He stood his ground in the middle of battle, and his face betrayed no emotion as he sent out curses and hexes as unbelievable speeds and raised shields with nary a glance. Harry almost backpedalled in fear when Voldemort inhaled before blowing on his outstretched palm, and a _Basilisk_ of pure fire emerged out of his mouth; he could almost feel the phantom heat from the massive behemoth before him.

The Prewett brothers never stood a chance. One of them screamed in horrific pain as he was burnt beyond recognition, and landed with a morbid finality.

Seeing the form of his fallen brother, the other man charged Voldemort in anger, sending out curses so fast that Harry had to shield his eyes from the light.

Voldemort barely reacted, he raised a shield which absorbed every spell thrown at him, and Harry was surprised to see a cold grin on his face.

The bastard wasn't even threatened, _he was enjoying this._

Voldemort waited until his attacker was almost upon him, before he disarmed him with one fluid movement, and without breaking stride, he plunged his wand into the man's heart and muttered a final word, his first in the entire duel.

Harry recognized the exploding curse, and he turned his eyes away as the remains of the Prewett brother landed on the ground, feeling sick to the very core of his stomach.

"His style is known as the Giant," said Flitwick quietly, "he stands like a tree in the battlefield and uses raw power to overwhelm everything in his way."

Harry could feel the beginnings of a panic attack coming on...he was supposed to fight and defeat _that? _At that moment, he was painfully aware of his own inexperience and lack of skill before Voldemort.

The Dark Lord had been careless, weakened from his resurrection, and complacent so far. Harry had an ominous feeling that all three factors would soon be dealt with.

"Harry?" he heard a gentle voice, and turned to see Flitwick looking at him anxiously. No doubt the professor thought that he was shaken up by the memory of his parents' murdered fighting.

"I don't think that's the one for me, Professor," he said weakly, "on to the next one?"

Flitwick smiled, "You'll enjoy this."

And enjoy it he did.

His first impression of his mother was a swathe of red hair whirling about him, before a gust of wind blew her attackers off their feet. Harry was pleased to recognize the white-blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy among them.

He watched as his mother raised an extremely strong shield, weathering all attacks while she muttered something under her breath. Nearly ten seconds later, when her defense was starting to crumble, she finished her spell.

Harry gave a gasp of wonder as arcs of lightning flashed out from her wand, targeting and electrocuting her opponents. Lily sagged noticeably, but backup had already arrived by that point, and the memory had ended.

"Short, but it gets the point across," said Flitwick, and Harry had to nod in agreement. "Your mother was a lover of old and forgotten charms, which were often crude but long, but made up what they lacked in finesse in raw power. However, she was never really much of a duellist, she only ever raised her wand to get herself and her loved ones out of trouble. As you can see, she has a distinct counterattacking style, and you can see her proficiency at Charms at the very beginning," finished the Professor a bit proudly.

"Still not the one for me, Professor," said Harry a bit sadly, and Flitwick couldn't help but sigh.

"One could only hope," he said wistfully, "but maybe the last one is meant to be? If not, we'll figure your own style out together, Mr. Potter. But fear not, I have a feeling you'll find this one to your liking."

His first impression of the memory was of chaos. It was everywhere, and a sea of spells made its way past him, slamming into the Death Eaters at random. His father came into view, hurling out spells from his wand incessantly, a scary grin on his face.

Next to him, Sirius showed the more Classical Pureblood style of duelling Flitwick had shown him earlier, twirling and waving his wand like a baton, though he was mainly concentrating on shielding his friend.

James, however, was entropy given form on the battlefield. He never paused to think; relying on Sirius to back him up and shield him from danger, he cast spell out after spell without pausing. The fact remained that none of them were overtly powerful, but a mixture of some of the craziest spells he'd ever seen.

Harry watched in utter fascination as a Death Eater was petrified and forced into a pink tutu, while another was transformed into a rabbit with extremely large teeth. The heads of one of the Death Eaters inflated until it was the size of a large balloon, while one more ended up hanging upside down in midair, breathing bubbles whenever he opened his mouth.

_Harry was in love._

"Professor," he said with a grin eerily reminiscent of the one his father had been wearing in the memory, "I think this is the one for me. What's it called?"

"We'll come to that shortly, Mr. Potter," said Flitwick with a pleased smile, "I had a feeling after the first few memories that this would be the one for you. Since James never had any formal training, I believe that with some proper guidance, you could modify this style to build your own, one which will –"

"Have some more defense, yeah," said Harry, and Flitwick nodded.

"Out with your wand, then, Mr. Potter," said the Professor, and Harry complied. "We shall be duelling immediately, and see if this style _will_ work out for you first, though."

"Now?" asked Harry, surprised, as Flitwick waved his wand and the entire room cleared. The Professor had obviously planned this.

"Now," admitted Flitwick with a suddenly feral grin before he struck.

Harry barely managed to get a rudimentary shield up before the hex grazed past him. As it was, he felt his cheek get sliced open and a trickle of blood flow down his cheek.

He grit his teeth as he was forced on the defensive, while Flitwick seemed to be dominating the fight without any effort. The Charms teacher was prodigiously fast, snapping out spells so fast that Harry lost his head and started to block and dodge wildly.

After some time, though, he reverted back to his crisis mode, as he had fondly named it.

"Is that the best you can do, Mr. Potter?" taunted Flitwick in his squeaky voice, "I confess myself disappointed."

Harry's temper rose, and he raised a shield and closed his eyes for a second, remembering his lessons with Calli.

He immediately felt foolish, his magic was right where it had been since he had completed his training, ready to use and _raring_ to go. Immersing himself in it, he grinned as he felt the power rush through him, and his Occlumency shields lightened ever so slightly.

Almost at once, it seemed the duel had been slowed down, as his magic-induced reflexes, honed thanks to his training with Calli, kicked in. He smoothly dodged a Hurling Hex, batted aside a Disarmer and twisted away from a unknown yellow spell.

It still wasn't enough, though; he felt a sting as Flitwick's Flame Whip connected with his arm, and he hissed in pain.

He pushed further into his magic, and slowly, he managed to raise a proper shield, and get an attack or two in. His efforts, though, were batted aside as though they were nothing but mere flies.

His anger growing despite the warnings from his mentor, Harry lowered his Occlumency shields and plunged into the very depths of himself.

Flitwick paused slightly as the power level in the room bypassed the normal and started climbing so fast that he felt the floor crack below his feet. Harry's eyes glazed over slightly as he found his very core, found the two ever-spinning lights within him, and he forced all his concentration on two words.

_Magicus –_

_**Harry, No!**_Yin's terrified voice rang out in his head, but he paid no heed.

_Extremos._

Harry's world went red in an instant as pure power exploded outwards from him. He could suddenly feel the presence of his very soul clearly, like his two guardians were next to him in the fight.

His lips curled into a feral grin, and a blast of phoenix song, terrifying and elating at the same time, filled the room. He raised his wand and sent a Blasting Hex at the Professor.

Flitwick's eyes widened as he saw the enormous purple jet shoot at him; he barely had time to raise a shield before it impacted. Even so, the backlash forced him back several paces, and his shield shattered, forcing him to roll away from the next two spells.

Harry was relentless, a crazy grin on his face, and he didn't let up for a second. Wave after wave of magic flew out from his wand, and he laughed in exhilaration as he conjured a wall of fire and blasted it outwards at Flitwick.

It was no Basilisk, but it was a start.

_**Harry, release the spell at once!**_Shouted Yang, but Harry was so drunk on power that he paid them no heed.

_**Do not fall to the lure,**_protested Yin, but he saw no reason to deny the magic that was _singing_ in his veins.

_**NO! You are better than this!**_

He faltered as images overloaded his mind, of Sirius and Remus, of Calli, and Ginny, Fred and George, Ron in his compartment on the train to Hogwarts.

He felt the red haze around him lighten, and his eyes widened as he saw the carnage he'd wrought. The benches around the perimeter had been reduced to shrapnel, the floor beneath him was cracking, the windows shattered and the paintings on the wall in pieces.

Horror rising in him, he struggled with the stream of magic which was threatening to overtake him, until finally, with a near inhuman effort, he was able to wrench himself away from it.\

The resulting backlash sent him off his feet and crashing onto the floor, where he groaned as he felt extremely lightheaded as once.

He sat up, clutching his head, and was shocked to see a battered looking and slightly smoking Flitwick do the same near the door.

"I was merely taunting you, Mr. Potter," squeaked the Professor, "you were doing admirably for an amateur, since I never hold back during my test duels. But just in case you wanted to know, your father's style, and the style which I'm sure you'll adapt,"

Flitwick paused, and Harry looked at him expectantly. "-was known as the Berserker."

Harry grinned.

* * *

Though tired, the spring in his step remained as Harry made his way up to the fifth floor for his first detention with Umbridge. Flitwick had assured him that he had shown signs that he could master the style of duelling without resorting to any extreme means, though it would take some practice.

Harry still couldn't wipe the shit-eating grin off his face, for some reason. Having so much power flowing through him just felt good.

He knocked on the door, waiting for the Professor to invite him in.

When no reply came, he pushed the door open and looked inside. His eyes widened in horror.

The broken form of his Defense Teacher lay on the floor, blood seeping out of her head. Her eyes were wide open and staring upwards unfocusedly.

Dolores Umbridge was dead.

* * *

**Author's Note: Before you give me flak, or rejoice at Umbridge's death, let me assure you, her murderer will **_**blow**_** your minds when the reveal happens. I swear it will. Begin guessing...while I laugh my evil laugh.**

**Actually, I'm not really in a laughing mood right now. My grandmother passed away on Sunday, and days have been tough. Writing became my refuge, which is why you have this chapter out much before I planned to publish it. Overlook any mistakes you come across, I'm not really in the best mindset.**

**That said, you can't really complain about this, can you? It has a mystery, badass action, some teen awkwardness interspersed with HEAVY foreshadowing, and a cliffie at the end.**

**Review, because I **_**really **_**want to know your reactions to this one! Engage me with your wonderful theories!**


	15. Important Author's Note

**_I'm abandoning this story._**

**Straight to the point. Now, before you swear at me, break things in anger, or break down crying, let me explain to you. **

**My aunt and uncle came over to offer their condolences at the recent passing of my Grandmother. The atmosphere was sober, an awkward silence descending, until...my little cousin, who'd happened to wander into my room, spilt a _jug of water_ on my laptop.**

**A. Two. Liter. Jug. Of. Water.**

**My trusty _old_ laptop has already suffered through rain, being dropped countless times, and two crashes. It met it's end yesterday. So did my Physics notebook, which means an entire year of slaving away at that godforsaken subject is down the drain.**

**GAAH! FUCK! The laptop contained _every_ idea I had for the story, every new chapter, every little plot point, an entire file on all my characters, and what I was to do with them. All gone. _All_ gone.**

**And I'm sick of this. Either me or the laptop is cursed. Seeing as I'm still alive, it's the laptop. So, I'm at a complete loss. I worked so hard on this story - it was my pride and joy, in fact, and I'm not looking for fake sympathy here - I've had too much of that over the past few weeks.**

**Which is why, reluctantly, I'm giving you an option. I'm willing to work with this story...but I will be restarting it, in a new story. The only way I can continue this is by pulling chapters and plots out of my arse, and I'm not willing to do it. **

**I'm going to put forward my case here. I'm going to spend Sunday searching for whatever I have written down on paper, try to cobble together a story, and get posting as soon as I can. New year, new hopes, right? And I can promise you that I won't repost the same chapters again - I've matured a _hell_ lot as an author since I started the story, so you'll get better, newer stuff, and I'll tweak as much as I can without losing the story altogether.**

**So, I'm leaving it up to you. New story, or just fuck it all to hell? Right now, I'm leaning equally towards both. I just feel SO angry, and I can't even give my cousin any flak because the poor little fellow was in tears after he'd realized what he'd done.**

**So I'm leaving it up to you. I love this story, and I hope at least some of you do too. While it won't be the same, I'm willing to give it one _final_ go. **

**Three days. Tell me what you want, and I'll see what I can do until then. If it's favourable, then I'll post the Prologue as fast as I can. If not...well, I get more time to do my own work.**

**And to clarify, I'm NOT continuing this. I'm sick of this story...and I'm fucking ANGRY with it - this has given me SO much shit. I just can't take anymore, on top of everything that's been going on...to hell with this!**

**Cheers, either way.**

**Oh, and word of advice to all the people...don't keep ANY water near electronics. Took me this fiasco to realize this.**

**Oh, and as to who killed Umbridge...I suppose you guys deserve to know _that, _at least.**

**It was...me. My story, characters...yada yada yada.**

**Yes, I'm a right ol' bastard. I just lost my baby, I think I'm entitled to a bit of angst and anger and cruelty.**

**Signing off, **

**IamtheMasterofDeath.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Aand the new story's up. Seriously, I love you guys - the response to my Note left me stunned, pleasantly so.**

**Shorter chapters, more action, hopefully, and more mature writing all around.**

**In fact, the very first chapter has a premise I don't think has been ever used before, despite what powers Harry gains from the Basilisk. At least, not in anything I've read.**

**What are you waiting for? Head over there, read and review. Underneath is the link.**

** s / 8772930 / 1 /**

**And before anybody gets on my case, I'll be removing the last two chapters in a week so that people can read this first. I'm considering leaving the story up with an abandoned sign as a memorial.**

**Now, go read there.**

**Life's good, in case you wanted to know. Better, at any rate.**

**And I love you guys. Like, purple dinosaur love.**


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